


so let's cross the lines we lost

by thecoloursneverfade



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Louis and Harry have a complicated past, Louis' POV, Love/Hate, M/M, Neighbors, Niall cooks a lot, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, because ziall is important, domestic ot5, like a lot, mentions of past Aiden/Harry, mentions of past Aiden/Louis, some parts are Zayns POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 165,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoloursneverfade/pseuds/thecoloursneverfade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis lives a not so quiet life on a not so quiet street. Starting university was supposed to be easy, that is, until he realises his new neighbour is Harry Styles, and they kind of hate each other, so falling for him is definitely out of the question. </p><p> </p><p>(or: Harry and Louis have a complicated past, Niall throws too many parties, Zayn is definitely not pining, and Liam just wants everyone to get along)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this fic is completely self-indulgent because I am weak for the enemies to lovers trope, I started it many, many, many months ago and now I'm finally deciding to finish it. Will hopefully be updated as often as possible. 
> 
> here's a little playlist:  
> Bushes - Hot Chelle Rae  
> Villain - Hedley  
> Electric Romantics - Short Stack  
> Stockholm Syndrome - One Direction  
> Jinx - DNCE  
> Heartlines - Broods
> 
> as always, thanks [Tori](https://andthecollisionofyourkiss.tumblr.com) for being my beta!
> 
> title is from BoRdErZ by Zayn
> 
> **disclaimer: this is a complete work of fiction and does not at all reflect the real-life people mentioned!**
> 
> find me here:[tumblr](https://thecoloursneverfade.tumblr.com)

_Explosion_ by Seafret

**

Louis notices two things when he gets home from work.

One, there is a car parked in the driveway, implying that Zayn finished classes early (or chose not to go altogether) and didn’t bother to give him a lift home.

And two, there are movers outside the house next to theirs, which has been unoccupied for the past month since the previous tenants were obviously unaware that they lived on a street entirely occupied by students, and they didn’t much take to the questionable smoke that would drift out of the window of Zayn’s studio.

He can’t see anyone yet behind the mover’s truck, and he’s mildly annoyed as he isn’t the biggest fan of change. He knows all of the faces on their street, so he’s grown accustomed to everyone’s routines, with the odd block party here and there, and he hasn’t had to introduce himself to someone new in a few months at least. He’s aware that he’s terribly cynical and reclusive, but it wasn’t always like that. Life’s just shit sometimes, and it happens.

He walks inside to see Zayn leaning against the window looking out to the front of the house.

“You were standing there for ages,” Zayn mutters.

“Hello to you too,” Louis says dryly and plants a kiss on Zayn’s cheek. He makes himself a cup of tea and then dramatically falls backwards onto the couch with a sigh.

“Tired?”

Louis hums noncommittally in response. “What’re you doing over there?”

“Seeing what the new people look like.”

“Haven’t seen them yet?”

Zayn shakes his head. “They literally just pulled up in this crazy coloured van, its actually kind of cool. Three guys I think.”

“Nice.” Louis says, unmoving from his spot on the couch. “What’s the verdict? Worth any of my attention?”

“You mean would you bang any of them?” Zayn says, amused.

Louis smiles innocently. “Precisely.”

Zayn ponders for a second. “I mean, they’re fit, yeah. Fucking frat boy vibe though.” Louis dips his head back and groans. “Hey, this one looks more your type.”

Louis shifts off of the couch, cradling the cup of tea between his fingers. His curiosity spiked, he’ll be completely honest. Becoming a self-pitying recluse does have the disadvantages of not getting _any_ for months, and it’s difficult to recall the last time he actually had a meaningful relationship.

He used to go out a lot with Zayn and their other mates who have probably assumed he’s fallen off the face of the earth. They’d go out to smoky pubs and Zayn would buy Louis drinks because he was a sad, unemployed mess whose tattered denim jackets smelled of cigarette smoke and whose home was the torn, stained couch in Zayn’s tiny dorm.

It’s not that Louis was desperate after the infamous ex, the one that broke his heart to the point where he really lost all sense of self-worth, but he did pick up some bad habits that he isn’t proud of.

It’d go like this; he’d spot some pretty boy in a pub, drink himself silly, and then drag him into the bathroom where he’d drop down and accept the way it caused rips in the knees of his jeans, or the filthy kiss on his cheek before the boy would slip off and that would be the end of it. And sometimes he’d be the other boy, sometimes he’d be the one to leave. But none of it even mattered, he was unaffected, desensitized, and night after night and he’d tear through the seams and close his eyes and let his throat burn because he just didn’t _care._

And maybe that also had something to do with the falling out he had with his mum almost a year ago, because he had been studying on a football scholarship, and he had _dreams_ of all things. And then the knee injury happened, and that just set it all off, all of the fighting, crying, everything falling apart until he could do nothing but kiss his sisters goodbye and walk out the door.

Since he and Zayn had moved out of the dorm and into their own flat, he tidied his act up a lot, but in a way that meant he stayed in more than he went out _at all,_ and he’s taught himself to ignore any and all romantic advances because relationships are like… a wild and foreign concept to him now.

So, like, if a fit lad were to be residing next to him, he’s definitely going to show a little bit of interest, even if its just a hook up, _especially_ if its just a hook up, there’s no point in pushing for something that won’t ever happen anyway.

He leans on the windowsill next to Zayn to inspect the new residents, hoping they would be somewhat entertaining at least; the student villages have been a little dull as of late, he’s almost been finding himself hoping to see a couch on fire in the middle of the street, or a terrible block party that results in trash all over their house and drunken idiots in costumes taking selfies with the cops before passing out in their own vomit.

A van is parked out in front of the house next to theirs. There are a couple of surfboards on the roof and it’s painted in some really weird psychedelic mural that looks a lot like some of the stuff Zayn paints when he’s high.

His eyes follow two boys in loose muscle shirts and snapbacks, a blond one and a brunette, laughing loudly about something probably stupid and already looking like the kind of people he and Zayn definitely do not want to be living next to – he’s sort of hit his limit of the amount of rowdy entitled douchebags he can handle this year, so he’s praying with what little hope he has left that this lot will be different.

He then spots the other boy getting out of the van, his back is turned but honestly Louis still thinks it’s a good angle.

He sees long brown curls spilling onto defined shoulders under a white singlet that shows off tattoos scattering along his painfully toned arms. Long lean legs in tight black skinny jeans rolled up at the ankles, exposing actual anklets. Louis didn’t think people wore those in real life.

He also doesn’t have any shoes on and Louis is a little confused as to why this hippie-model-rockstar is hanging around fratboy types. But whatever, he’ll take it.

And then the boy turns around.

And his _face_ ––  _holy shit–– fuck_ , _fuck, fuck. No._

Louis drops––he actually _drops_ ––his cup of tea onto the floor in a loud crash. Hot liquid sears his feet and he jumps.

“ _Shit!_ ” he exclaims.

“Jesus Louis, what the hell?” Zayn yells, stumbling away from the pool of tea spreading on the floor.

Great. Harry Styles is his neighbour for two seconds and he’s already causing problems for him.

Zayn is staring at him, wide eyed and alarmed. “He’s hot yeah, but it’s not _‘drop your tea’_ kind of hot–– though, _maybe–_ “

“No, Zayn, that’s not it.” Louis interjects. He takes another peek just to make sure, and there’s no question about it, he just seems so… different _._

But, like. Louis is really good at holding grudges. He struggles to forget someone who he can only associate with terrible memories. He could never forget Harry. And right now, Harry’s laughing at something the boy with the blond hair had said, so his head is tilted back a little, but it’s him. It’s definitely him.

Louis grabs a towel and starts to wipe up the spilt tea. “Do you remember back in high school, there was that guy who I kind of loathed – he was always competing with me, and was in general an absolutely dreadful excuse of a human being?”

Zayn didn’t go to the same high school as Louis, so he never knew the full _Harry_ story because frankly Louis was never one to talk about it. Sort of because it makes his lunch from earlier rise in his throat, and it brings back truly wonderful memories of the heartbreak that ruined his life, dramatic as he is, the pinnacle point that caused him to spiral into a whirl of toxic relationships and bad decisions. Most of which he blames Harry for.

Among other things of course, like stealing the captaincy title of their football team when Louis rightfully deserved it, and Louis is fairly certain he had tried to sabotage his performances in their drama productions, but _apparently_ he was just making wild assumptions.

He thinks back to the nights he and Zayn would stay up in Louis’ room talking or just lying awake till the sun rose, he’s sure he mentioned Harry in there somewhere. Zayn was there through everything, and he never asked Louis why, because he just knew it was bad, and that Louis didn’t want to be alone.

Zayn considers. “It was, um – Harry something? Right? And oh _boy_ do I remember you complaining about him.”

Louis nods, and a bitter taste rises in the back of his throat when he snaps back to reality. “Harry _Styles,_ ” he drawls, the name sour on his tongue, “well… that’s him there”

Zayn’s eyebrows crease, and he turns his attention back to the boys who are leaning against their front porch looking like fucking models and Louis _hates_ it. “Pretty one with the curls?”

“Don’t call him that, he’s _not_ pretty – he’s irritating and the fucking _worst,_ ” he insists, wiping the damp towel across the floor.

Zayn doesn’t even seem to be paying attention anyway, his eyes still far away as he looks out the window. “Wow, so that’s the famous Harry Styles. Your ‘ _self-proclaimed mortal enemy’_ right? I remember you saying that,”

“That would be him, yes,” Louis throws the towel into a wash basket.

Zayn hums. “Strange coincidence that he’s living there.”

Louis almost laughs. “The universe just wants to fuck me over, for old times sake,” he mutters bitterly.

“Well, that’s just– ugh, crap,” Zayn frowns, looking out the window.

“What?”

“Blondie is coming over,” Zayn murmurs with a groan.

Louis sighs and takes the remnants of his favourite mug into the kitchen to throw away. When he returns, Zayn is opening the door, and a smiling face is on the other side.

“Hello! I’m Niall, ah, your new neighbour, thought I would introduce myself,” he extends out a hand that Zayn reluctantly shakes.

“Zayn,” he points behind him with his thumb. “Louis,”

Louis gestures something that’s supposed to be a wave, before slumping back onto the couch. He didn’t really have much interest in befriending their new neighbours earlier and now with this new information he really could not care less.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood or whatever,” Zayn mumbles offhandedly.

“How do you get your hair to do that?” Niall asks suddenly.

Zayn frowns. “Whad’ya mean?”

“It like, defies gravity or something,” the boy sounds astounded. It’s true though, Louis has always wondered how Zayn manages such an immaculate quiff everyday when all he does is sit in his studio for hours on end. Still, weird thing to say to someone you just met.

“Ah– I dunno, hairspray?” Zayn says, annoyance obvious in his tone.

“I try ya’ know, but my hair just doesn’t cooperate,” Niall goes on, running his hands through his own hair sheepishly which Louis now notices is more of a bleached blond, his dark roots peaking through on the sides.

“… Okay.” Zayn says uncomfortably.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Niall is quiet for a moment and then, “anyway, we should all hang out sometime?”

Zayn clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, maybe,” he responds noncommittally.

“Cool… cool, well see you ‘round then?” Niall says, leaning in expectantly.

Zayn just smiles meekly and closes the door, almost slamming it right in Niall’s face, then he slumps into the seat next to Louis.

“Christ, that guy was so cheerful,” Zayn whines, “kill me.”

Louis rubs Zayn’s shoulder. “It’s okay, baby,” he says, doing his best mothering tone. “Wonder how Harry met someone as irritatingly friendly as that, he’s such a dick.”

Zayn shrugs. “Maybe he’s changed,”

Louis just scoffs. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

. . . 

Unsurprisingly, he was right.

Not that he expected much else, and admittedly he may have spent the entire remainder of the day hiding inside and forcing Zayn to go out and get food until he was mentally prepared to properly confront Harry, trying to piece together something– _anything_ to say to the boy who had the nerve to just _waltz_ back into Louis’ life without so much as a warning, literally, zero warning and they’re expected to be neighbours for Louis’ entire life at Uni? Fate is cruel, and Louis curses every moment he spent in high school, falling too hard and trusting too much.

He’s considered just pretending he doesn’t recognize him, but he knows that wouldn’t work, they were just too involved with each other a year ago, and not at all in a good way.

He peers out of the window to see Harry on his front porch, leaning against the wall with his hips arching forward, wearing a stupid sun hat and scribbling something into a pretentious (faux, probably) leather-bound notebook.

_Maybe he’s changed._

Louis scoffs as he did earlier, there’s no way.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he steps outside and nears the other boys’ house, feeling like he’s on a mission.

“I never thought I would have the displeasure of seeing you again, Harry Styles,” he says in a brave tone as he nears the other boys’ front porch.

Harry finishes whatever he’s writing before slowly lifting his head, which really _infuriates_ Louis. Louis watches as the rush of confusion to realization crosses Harrys face when he meets his eyes, widening for a moment and then becoming something else completely when his mouth twists into a smirk.

“I should’ve known you were the guy that Niall was talking about,” Harry says in that unbearably slow, gravelly voice of his. Honestly, he has the face of a little boy, what the fuck is his voice.

Louis frowns. “Sorry?”

“ _A little rude_ Niall had said, and I thought of you straight away but then I thought _no,_ surely the universe isn’t so cruel as to throw this horrific twist of fate at me, yet here we are,” he grins.

Louis flashes the fakest smile he can muster. “Yup. Still an arse, just checking,” he lets his eyes size up Harry briefly, ignoring how they linger on his legs in those tight jeans. Which. No, that is just unacceptable. “You’re a little taller, but that’s about it.”

Harry gives him a thumbs up. “Glad I could clarify, you’re still just as obnoxious as ever, good to know some things never change.”

The door opens before Louis can respond and the other boy, the brunette one that Louis has yet to meet, walks out onto the porch. He’s really quite adorable up close, Louis can admit that much. He’s doe-eyed and donning a smile that’s so fucking contagious Louis can’t help but wipe the scowl off of his face.

“Hey, I’m Liam,” he says to Louis.

“Ah– hey. Louis.”

Louis goes to extend his arm for a handshake but Liam pulls him into a warm bear hug instead, strong arms wrapping around his shoulders, he smells very strongly of Axe deodorant, which makes Louis gag a little. He manages to pat the other boy on the back once before he gets let go, slightly bewildered. His annoyance rises when he hears Harry snickering.

“I love getting to know my neighbours, how many of you is there?” Liam asks, seeming genuinely interested.

“It’s just me and Zayn,”

“You guys have to come over for dinner tonight – it’s just pizza, we don’t really have much else yet, but we can all get to know each other, it’ll be fun, right, Harry?” He turns to the other boy.

Harry has an amused expression on his face and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Oh yeah, totally, it’ll be a _blast._ ” Harry says cheerfully.

Louis sneers at him, before returning Liam’s gaze. He looks like a puppy dog, goddammit.

“Fantastic,” he says reluctantly.

Liam’s face lights up. “I can’t wait, I’m gonna go order but come over in about an hour, yeah?”

Louis nods. “Fantastic,” he says again.

Liam smiles again before jumping into the psychedelic van and Louis turns his attention back to Harry, he’s really brimming with a suspicious amount of amusement.

“Here I was hoping we could just avoid each other,” he mumbles, eying up the smirk on Harry’s face. “You look like you’re enjoying this.”

Harry shrugs. “Well, I have always been one for reunions. And it would make my day seeing you get increasingly more frustrated with me throughout the night,” he flashes a striking grin.

Louis grits his teeth. “You wont get that satisfaction, sweetheart,” he says, backing away, battling the urge to flip him off.

“See you tonight, love,” Harry calls sardonically, and there’s a crinkle in the corners of his eyes, and it reminds Louis of something.

Still, Louis rolls his eyes and turns to head back to his house, when he gets inside he’s met with Zayn sprawled out on the couch looking at him curiously.

“That looked interesting,” he says. “Still hate him?”

“Oh yes. Oh – and we’re going to theirs tonight, how fucking fantastic, right?” he falls back onto the couch with a drawn out sigh, and stupid, stupid memories rushing through his head like a sand storm, playing back in his mind and he doesn’t want them to. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Zayn frowns further. “How did that happen? Did you invite us over? I thought you hated him,”

“ _I do_ , the other one came out and invited us – Liam, I think his name was, he has actual _puppy dog eyes_ Zayn! I couldn’t say no,” Louis says pathetically.

Zayn heaves out a sigh, shuffles over to Louis and lets his body go lax in his space. “You’re lucky I’m so good to you”

“I know, I love you _._ ”

. . . 

Forty-five minutes pass by when they hear Liam pull up at the house next door carrying a few boxes of pizza easily. Louis drops his head onto the back of the couch, letting out a groan.

Zayn gets to his feet and pulls him up. “Let’s just get it over with,”

Louis just groans further, unmoving. “Why don’t we just move? We’ll go to Amsterdam; you’ve always wanted to go there right? We’ll take up knitting and sell socks and wooly hats, it’ll be great, we’ll grow old together.”

Zayn chuckles. “I don’t think Amsterdam could handle you, babe,”

He lets Zayn drag him out the door and across their little yard to the other boys house, Zayn goes to knock but the door flies open before he gets the chance and Niall is standing there, his bright blue eyes burning into them like starlight and Louis blinks.

“Hi again,” Niall says cheerfully, stepping aside to let the boys walk in.

The house already seems to have more things in it than Louis and Zayn’s, which is surprising considering they’ve barely been here one day. The shelves are decorated with an assortment of knick-knacks that Louis is a little confused by, they all look very cultural and a sort of strange mix, and he wonders if these guys are into weird voodoo and sacrificial ceremonies. Maybe that’s why they invited them over.

“Are they going to kill us?” he whispers to Zayn, dead serious with his concerns.

“What the fuck? You’re being crazy,” Zayn whispers back.

“You guys want to sit down? I’ll go check on things,” Niall says, dashing into the kitchen.

They sit on the couch, Louis looks around, it’s almost identical to their flat aside from the décor and furniture. He’s only been in here three other times when their previous neighbours asked him to babysit, which ended in spaghetti all over the walls and Louis vowing to never be responsible for a child again.

He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he’s concerned.

“What could they be preparing in there? Its just fucking pizza” Louis says suspiciously.

“At least _try_ to be civil, please?” Zayn gives him a look that says he really doesn’t have the energy to endure Louis being an asshole, but that’s what he does best, so.

“I can’t promise anything, Zayn,” Louis smiles pleasantly.

Zayn rolls his eyes and stands up, moves onto admiring one of the knick-knack covered shelves, his fingers tracing over an animal skull that has been artfully placed.

“Freaky,” he murmurs quietly.

“It’s just a cat skull,” Niall appears in the room. “Harry and I helped with a dig in Egypt, they let us keep it. Cool, yeah?”

Zayn purses his lips and shrugs disinterestedly, “are these all, like, travel souvenirs?” he asks, eyes scanning over the assortment of objects lining the shelf.

“Yup. Harry and I met at a backpackers in Switzerland, we both liked busking so we sort of teamed up and spent a year travelling the world together, best mates ever since.” Niall states proudly.

Louis tries not to pay attention to Niall, because he doesn’t want to hear about what Harry has done with his life – doesn’t _care_ that he’s travelled the world. Louis isn’t interested in the slightest.

Zayn hums. “Must be nice,”

Louis smirks at Niall’s immediate look of confusion followed by him raising his hands in defense.

“Oh um, no I didn’t mean to–“

“Sorry about that guys!” Liam cuts in, carrying a few boxes of pizza and bottles of beer between his fingers, followed by Harry who is now wearing a pink polka dot button up that is practically wide open. Louis thinks he’s only noticed the two buttons at the very bottom of his shirt, revealing a golden torso decorated in tattoos. It’s a stark contrast from the sweater-wearing boy that Louis once knew.

He slides onto the couch next to Louis.

“Louis,” he addresses politely, always so fucking polite.

Louis forces his best smile back at him. “Harold,” and Harry grimaces at the nickname, as much as he tries to hide it.

Niall drops to his knees on the other side of the coffee table, and Liam sinks onto a beanbag next to him, putting the pizza boxes and beer on the table and taking a slice.

Zayn sits down next to Louis, giving his knee a quick squeeze as if its some kind of consolation for the fact that this night is probably going to be hell. They barely even go out and socialize with their actual friends; Louis doesn’t even remember how this ‘getting to know’ part works anymore, let alone getting to know someone he already knows – someone he can’t _stand_.

Liam glances at Zayn as Louis swipes a bottle of beer, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“You must be the other half,” Liam says. “Zayn is it?”

“Um. Hi, yeah,” Zayn says, an _almost_ smile tugging at his lips. Which is impressive for Zayn, Louis will admit. Liam clearly has that effect on people.

“I’m Liam, you’ve met Niall,” he gestures towards the smiling Irish boy at the end of the coffee table. “And this is Harry,”

Harry leans forward, looking past Louis to give Zayn what is probably supposed to be a charming smile.

“Hey there,” he says in an irritating low baritone, Louis stares fixedly at the wall across the room from him, he doesn’t even feel like he exists in the space between Harry and Zayn.

Zayn purses his lips before forcing a very small smile. “Hi,” he says bluntly. Louis smiles and picks up a slice of pizza.

Liam looks between the two of them fondly. “So how long have you two been together?”

Louis almost chokes on his pizza followed by quiet snickering coming from Zayn, and Liam’s eyes have gone wide with shock, confusion very apparent across his features.

Louis coughs, clearing his throat. “Sorry– um. Just– _no,_ we’re not together.”

Liam seems to come back to life, his cheeks turning a soft pink. “Shit, sorry. I just assumed.”

“Don’t worry about it, we get that a lot actually,” Zayn says, his voice still a little jittery with laughter.

Liam laughs. “Okay then, so how long have you two been _living_ together?”

“Uh. A few months,” Zayn says. “I’ve been studying here for a year and then Louis decided to study which was great because it meant I could finally move out of my shitty dorm and flat with him,”

Liam nods along. “That’s sick,” he says. “Guess it kind of worked out well for us too, I was working as a lifeguard in this little beach town last year while these two met travelling the world, and we all decided to study when they got back,”

“Funny how things work out like that, huh?” Harry says, amused.

Louis smirks in Harry’s direction, but not looking him in the eye. “Isn’t it?”

“So what are you guys studying?” Liam asks curiously.

“Science, biology more specifically,” Louis says.

“Oh no way, you might have some lectures with me and Harry, I’m in sports science and Harry’s a med student, pediatrics, might run into each other,”

“Imagine that,” Louis mumbles, not missing the way Harry snorts.

“I probably shouldn’t be eating this,” Liam says, grinning as he takes a bite of his pizza crust. “I work at the campus gym,” _of course he does._

“Really? Can’t tell,” Louis says, chuckling softly.

Liam laughs, a big throaty chortle that catches Louis off-guard. “It’s the arms right?” He flexes his massive biceps.

“That’s it,” Louis says, with the widest smile.

“I like you guys, we’ve got to make this a regular thing,” Liam says. “Is that alright, boys?”

Louis, smirking, raises his eyebrows at Harry who is grinning right back at him and biting his bottom lip ever so slightly.

“Absolutely,” he says in a low voice, sarcasm heavy on his tongue and not making any effort to break eye contact with Louis.

“What about you Zayn?” Niall asks, Zayn’s eyes flick in his direction appearing confused. “Uh– studying– what are you studying?” he adds quickly.

“Oh– um, fine art,” Zayn says, a blank expression resting on his face.

“Hey cool, we’re like the two artsy ones in the group, I’m a music major” Niall says enthusiastically. “Uh, Harry and I went to an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art last year, have you had a chance to see Cy Twombly’s work up close? Its really incredible,”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, “that’s in New York, so no, I haven’t,” he deadpans.

Niall’s face falls. “Shit. Right. Sorry.”

Liam clears his throat. “Um. So, do you guys work on campus?”

Louis nods, “if you want a book issued, we’re your guys,” he flashes a charming smile, and it sends Niall off on a tangent about getting banned from the main library in Mullingar for drawing in the books when he was twelve. Louis is appalled on behalf of the books.

The next hour passes in a similar manner, discussing mundane topics such as everyone’s future plans and where they’re all from. Louis manages to dodge as much about himself as possible, because there would be far too many connections between him and Harry that he isn’t interested in explaining. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever.

“So you’re from Doncaster?” Liam asks. “Harry went to high school in Donny, didn’t you?”

Louis feels his chest seize. He turns to Harry whose face has hardened slightly. “That I did,”

Liam looks between them, “you guys might have met before and not even known it,” he says excitedly. _Oh Liam, if only you knew_.

Louis watches the smug grin work it’s way onto Harrys face, and fuck it.

“D’you know what? I think I might remember you,” Louis says, and he can feel Zayn groan softly next to him. “Stolen any boyfriends lately?”

Harry smiles wide, and it takes everything in Louis not to scowl. “Oh you know, the usual. What about you? Still ruining lives or is that beneath you now?”

Louis drops the smile, ignoring the rest of the room. “That’s hilarious, considering none of it was my fault. Fucking typical,”

“ _I’m_ typical? Wow, that’s bold,” Harry says, rolling his eyes but his jaw is set tight.

“What is going on?” Liam asks, looking thoroughly confused.

“Oh nothing,” Harry says nonchalantly, glancing away, his face brimming with fake amusement.

“No please, Harry, do continue,” Louis says, ignoring the way he can tell Zayn is growing uncomfortable with where this is going.

Harry just smirks, looking irritatingly smug. “You really want to get into this now? Could bring up some _sensitive_ topics,”

Louis laughs coldly. “Oh don’t worry about me, love. I think I’ll be alright,”

Zayn coughs. “Louis,” he warns quietly.

Niall glances at everyone in the room bewilderedly, but he goes unnoticed. “Did the room suddenly get really cold?”

Liam frowns. “Guys, what is going on here?”

Harry leans back in his seat. “Why don’t you ask Tomlinson over there, seems to have _all_ the answers,”

“Who – Tomlinson?”

Louis sneers at him. “Are you still sixteen? Feels like you’re still sixteen,” aside from the incredibly angular jaw and defined abs covered in tattoos – and his obnoxious confidence. Sixteen year old Harry was clumsy and awkward, Louis finds it strange to think they could have actually been friends.

“That’s hilarious.” Harry mumbles.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even wasting my time with you,”

“Well feel free to leave.” Harry snaps back, holding his hand towards the door.

Louis is about to get up, because he really shouldn’t have to deal with his, when Liam reaches over and his hand falls on Louis’ knee.

“No. No one is going anywhere.” Liam states, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Do you two know each other? What am I missing here?”

Louis sighs deeply, and finds he actually doesn’t know what to say; he notices Niall looking wide-eyed and equally as confused and Harry looking irritatingly smug. Louis is not going to be the first to break.

“Harry?” Liam says.

Harry just shrugs, biting his lip in an attempt to suppress a smirk.

Liam huffs. “Someone better say something soon.”

“Alright,” Zayn cuts in when it’s obvious no one else is going to speak. “I don’t know the whole thing, but, these two,” he waves his hand vaguely at Louis and Harry, “absolutely hate each other.”

Liam frowns. “What?” he slaps Harry’s arm softly with the back of his hand. “Why would you hate him?”

Louis’ face breaks out into a grin. “Yeah, Harry, why would you hate me?”

“Hey, you have a lot of explaining to do as well,” Liam says sternly.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not explaining anything, he’s a dick. Always has been.”

“Yes and you are a complete saint,” Harry mutters, a full scowl on his face and completely aimed at Louis.

“Aw, how sweet,” Louis smiles pleasantly.

Liam hits both of their arms this time. “Enough,” he takes a deep breath and looks at both of them like a concerned mother. “Harry, you’re my best friend, Louis, you’re my neighbour and I really want us to be friends, so you two _are_ going to get along. Alright?”

Louis wants to frown, he’s known Liam for barely a _day_ and he thinks he can just tell him what to do? What the fuck? The frustrating part is that Liam is almost impossible to say no to. Louis could, he could just walk out and save everyone the stress of having to continue this evening. But he has to live with that decision for the next few years, and yeah, he’d rather not.

Louis sighs and purses his lips, swallowing his pride. “Whatever.”

Liam nods approvingly and turns his head to Harry who mumbles a quiet, “Fine.”

“Alright,” Liam says, looking somewhat pleased. “Good.”

“Jesus, that was tense,” Niall adds, looking dumbfounded as he picks at his pizza.

The rest of the evening that followed included Liam making Louis and Harry agree to at least make an effort to get along, and after no one explained why they hated each other he just said that nothing could be so important that they’d still have to hold that kind of grudge. Louis almost hopes he can believe that. Because, as if starting University wasn’t stressful enough. Fucking hell.

They watched some TV, Louis was distracted. And kind of angry. When it was finally time to leave he practically ran out of the house, letting out a very dramatic, very loud sigh when he got into his own flat.

“Well that was… kind of successful. Liam’s cool.” Zayn says, sitting on the couch with Louis.

Louis stares at him. “Successful? Really?”

Zayn shrugs. “Could’ve gone worse s’ all I’m saying. So… you and Harry, I’m guessing it wasn’t just football and drama, what else happened?”

Louis gets up. “Nothing important, stupid high school shit,” he starts walking up the stairs, he could really do without this conversation right now, “I’ll um, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, night Zayn,”

Zayn pauses. “Yeah, g’night.”

Louis falls onto his bed and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s just so fucking mad. He had left all of this behind in high school. And things were, like, good. He was really happy to be going off on his football scholarship, never having to look at Harry or… or Aiden ever again. As much as it sucked. As much as the whole situation fucking sucked.

And it’s all Harrys fault really, showing up in Donny out of the blue when Louis’ life was great and he came in, and he fucked it up completely with his stupid cherub face and stupid curls. Showing up and making this impact on Louis' life that he's still in the process of getting rid of. But obviously that's all out the window now. And then he went and just appeared out of fucking nowhere again today. Though a few things might be missing this time. Which is _something_ at least.

Ugh. Whatever. He needs a fucking cigarette.

. . . 

The following morning started fantastic.

And Louis lived by the philosophy that that meant a fantastic day was sure to follow.

He woke before his alarm, but still wide awake and feeling renewed – _revitalized_ even _–_ and everything those ridiculous ad’s for healthy cereal’s and energy boosters claim normal people feel in the morning, Louis felt it. He had a quick shower, got dressed in his skinny jeans and a plain singlet because _the sun is shining for fucks sake_. He had his customary cup of tea and popped a few pieces of bread into the toaster, and then he made his way to Zayn’s room.

This was always the terrifying part of getting ready in the morning, waking up Zayn. He becomes some kind of hulk-like creature when woken up too early, and Louis has had to deal with the full brunt of it for years now so he’s grown accustomed to the sunken eyes and hateful glares. However, just like the sun shining through his window in autumn, even Zayn Malik appears to be full of surprises.

He’s already up when Louis nudges open his door, he’s styling his hair in the mirror atop his dresser.

“Oh! You’re up,”

Zayn just shrugs. “Set an alarm, gave myself an extra hour to actually wake up,”

“Well that’s – that’s good,” Louis says, a little unsure but also over the moon because this is the day that keeps on giving.

He eats his toast while humming along absentmindedly to whatever song is playing on the radio, staring out of the window from the breakfast bar at the sun kissing the frosted grass and dewdrops dripping from flowers and soaking into the soil. Birds are actually chirping.

So, yes. It has been a fantastic morning.

And then he steps outside.

And it’s as if the universe had timed it perfectly with the curly asshole next door, who is also stepping out wearing a flannel shirt that is a size too big with a satchel hanging off his shoulder. He’s such a fucking hipster. It makes Louis’ stomach churn.

Part of him had hoped the previous day had all been a bad dream. That he wasn’t actually living next door to the human embodiment of the part of his high school life he had worked so very hard to forget; yet there he stands in his unbearably tight jeans and running his ridiculously long fingers through the mop of messy hair on his head. It’s infuriating because it was real. It _is_ real. And he has to put up with it for the next three years of his life.

Harry shoots a heated glare Louis’ way when he see’s him staring, and Louis’ face flushes but Harry doesn’t see, he turns away when Liam and Niall step outside and his face changes dramatically. A scowl becoming a sheepish smile and a cold stare becoming fondness, warmth. Louis doesn’t think he’s seen a quicker change in emotion, didn’t even know it was even possible.

The two boys throw him a friendly wave. And Louis waves back because well, why not. Then the three of them leave in their colourful van and Louis huffs in annoyance while he waits for Zayn.

He now has a headache. Fuck this day.

. . .

His first day runs smoother after that derailing morning encounter that he has decided was _barely_ an encounter and was barely anything at all.

He only has a couple of lectures to start off, filled with exhausting introductions and ancient lecturers not knowing basic internet skills, taking up almost half the time trying to open a website on Internet Explorer, and not being able to figure out why the browser froze for ten excruciating minutes. It was embarrassing. Louis ignored it.

Liam was in his last lecture of the day, and it turns out the two of them get along really well. For someone who is friends with Harry Styles, he’s not so bad. Aside from the fact that he invited himself over to Louis’ after class, as if it was just a given that Louis has no other prior commitments. Which. He doesn’t, but Liam didn’t know that.

Zayn is already home when they get back, shut away in his studio, his head is deep in paint fumes and six cups of coffee and Louis recognizes this as his “ _I’m pulling an all-nighter, if you fucking disturb me while I’m painting I will personally kill you,”_ mode. So he keeps Liam in the lounge with a bowl of chips and switches on a game of _FIFA._

About an hour into their game while the screen is loading, Liam turns on his side to face Louis.

“So do you mind if I ask what happened between you and Harry? I only got a weird half answer from him,” Liam asks tentatively.

Louis looks at him. “Well what did he say?”

Liam lists on his fingers, “football, drama, that you’ve always been rude to him. Oh, and a few other things I would rather not repeat,”

Louis shakes his head softly, looking up at the ceiling while he remembers. “That’s basically it. High school rubbish,” he says with a shrug. And there is some truth to that, he’d be happy for that to be the entire truth if Harry is as well. Liam doesn’t need to know the gory details. “Look, Liam, he’s a little shit, we did nothing but fight the entire time we knew each other. We just clash.”

Liam nods and runs his fingers through his extremely soft looking hair. “That’s a real shame because I really like you, Louis, I do hope you two can get along, it’s _three years_ man. Bad energy to hate someone for that long.”

Louis smiles wide, shrugging his shoulders. “Tell him to stop being an asshole then,”

Liam grins and knocks his knee against Louis’ thigh. “He’s not an asshole around me, I’ve actually never seen him like that before.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and gasps. “Will wonders never cease?”

Liam giggles. “Hey, stop it,” he throws a couch cushion at Louis. “He’s actually a really cool guy.”

Louis scoffs in disbelief. “Okay, and how long have you known him? Please explain this to me because I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Liam sighs dramatically. “Well, Niall’s been my best friend since – forever, right? And when he went backpacking I couldn’t go with him because of my job, so a year later he comes back with this curly lad and he tells me Harry’s been looking out for him while they travelled and I’ve kind of had this bond with him ever since. They got back a few months ago, so yeah. I’ve known him that long.”

“Only a few months? Well see, there’s your problem,” he says, adding a small chuckle.

Liam shakes his head. “You two are actually very similar, maybe that’s why you hate each other.”

Louis grimaces, he _knows,_ is the thing, he knows that they’re similar, had been excited about it even, when they met. That only made it hurt more.

But it was years ago, and it really doesn’t matter anymore, so long as he doesn’t let it.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, are we playing this or are we gossiping about boys?”

Liam sighs and shifts back onto the couch, lifting his controller.

“Party tonight if you and Zayn want to come,” he says as Louis loads up the game.

“Can’t, got work later on, Zayn’s painting all night. And somehow I don’t think fratboy parties are really our thing.”

“We are _not_ – that is so rude. I am deeply offended, my parties are an _experience_.” Liam says defensively, adding dramatic flair to that last part.

“Oh I’m sure they are.”

“Well, you wont know til you try it,”

Louis smirks, shaking his head. “Not tonight, buddy.”

A couple more hours pass before Liam heads out with another carebear hug and an overly dramatic wave goodbye for someone who lives just next door.

People start arriving when the sun is starting to set and Louis see’s Harry out of the window, playing an old acoustic guitar with Niall, it’s covered in scribbles and weird drawings. Like the ones on his arms, all mismatched and too similar to the style that Louis likes. He didn’t have any of those tattoos in high school.

Louis grimaces. He shouldn’t be staring. He’s going to ignore this.

. . .

It’s three in the fucking morning.

Zayn is currently in his room/ _studio with a bed shoved in the corner_  and his hands are covered in a rainbow of paint, his hair is mussed and hanging over his eyes a little and the music coming from next door is literally vibrating his paint brushes. He’s fuming.

The thing is, Zayn is usually a night owl. He loves working late at the library, he finds the half-asleep students somewhat endearing if not just extremely amusing. He loves painting at night even if he has to use unnatural light sources, night is a good time to be creative. Maybe because it feels like time has stopped for a few hours.

And he likes music; he loves the soft sounds of electro pop bands floating through his studio while he works. He does _not,_ however, like the obnoxiously loud booming of weird techno artists coming from the equally obnoxious house next door while they host their first party. No. That just won’t do.

He marches downstairs like a man on a mission, and finds that Louis is still up watching a video on his laptop with headphones on. He pulls them out when he see’s Zayn, frowning when he is also greeted by the music from next door.

“I can’t paint with that noise, I’m going over there,” Zayn states.

“Need me to come?” Louis asks.

“No, Tommo, you’re trying _not_ to kill him remember?”

Louis sulks back into the couch. “Right. Well, good luck.”

He makes his way to the other house, walking past the few people out on the front lawn, and bangs on the door violently, knowing that he won’t be heard any other way.

Niall opens it, of course, and he looks ridiculous, a red cup in his hand and his hair has actual glitter in it. He looks behind him and there’s got to be at least a hundred people in there, he’s not even sure how these guys know so many people in the short amount of time they’ve been here.

“Ay! You came!” Niall yells cheerfully.

Zayn shakes his head. “No, I was wondering you could turn it down actually?”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’ll definitely turn it down,” Niall says, looking genuinely concerned, but he’s also drunk off his face so who knows.

“Thanks.” Zayn manages.

“Do you want to stay?” Niall asks, reaching out to wrap his hand around Zayn’s.

Zayn flinches his hand away and shakes his head. “Got things to do,” he does a small wave and then turns and walks back to their house.

 _Barely_ twenty minutes pass before the music is turned up again, if not, significantly louder than earlier. He groans, puts down his paintbrush, and walks back down stairs. Louis pulls out his headphones again and frowns.

“If I don’t come back, assume I’ve gone down in a haze of bullets because I will be personally killing all of them.” Zayn says firmly.

“You really don’t want me to go over there?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows.

“Nah mate, I got this,”

He walks back over, wondering how the vibrations aren’t shattering the windows and he bangs on the door again. Unsurprisingly, Niall answers.

“Shit, is it too loud again? This isn’t me I swear, someone else is messing with it.” Zayn is beginning to think that is a complete load of crap.

“Yeah, whatever, can you just keep it down? Hate to be rude but you’re so fucking loud and I will personally destroy your stereo if it stays this way,”

“I hear you loud and clear,” _was that a fucking joke?_ “Won’t happen again, buddy.”

Zayn manages a scowl before returning to his house and sinking into the couch next to Louis. He hears the music lessen in volume, thank heavens.

“Talking to that kid is exhausting,” he groans.

“Tell me about it.” Louis mumbles, switching on the TV.

“How are you doing with the whole _not fighting with Harry_ situation?” Zayn asks.

Louis just shrugs. “Avoiding him seems to help.”

Zayn just nods and lets his attention drift to the weird late night show playing on TV, it’s only twenty minutes in when his frustration rises as he hears the vibrating slowly start to increase again _of fucking course._

He covers his face, groaning into his fingers. “I’m going to scream,” he moans.

“Alright, fuck this.” Louis stands up, ignoring his friends’ protests and storms to the other house.

He doesn’t knock, knowing that that doesn’t seem to have any effect, though no one seems to notice his entering, he pushes through the groups of drunken idiots, only recognizing a very intoxicated Liam surrounded by people and Niall standing on a table doing some weird dance. He storms up the stairs, inspecting every room until he finds Harrys. Because, well, it’s always his fault isn’t it?

His room is dark, only dimly lit by the full moon blaring through the open doors on his balcony where Harry is sitting writing in his notebook. And yes, he is shirtless. No, Louis does not care. He turns his head to Louis when he enters.

“Styles,” Louis says firmly.

“Knocking is a thing that exists for a reason, you know,” he says, standing up and walking in Louis’ direction.

Louis ignores him. “Your friends are obviously too drunk and stupid to do the job properly, but if you don’t turn it down, you’re going to have a problem.”

Harry makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t I already? You do know not everything is about you right? Though I know you have always struggled with that so I’ll cut you some slack,”

Louis inhales a deep breath, and he hardens his voice. “I’m not here for me, you dick,”

“Fuck, you’re so touchy.” Harry runs his fingers through his stupid hair, a smug curve to his mouth.

Louis rolls his eyes, so unbelievably annoyed. “Fucking hell, look, I’m not leaving until it gets turned way down.”

Harry laughs coldly and takes another step forward. “You’re not the bloody boss of me, and you are leaving, now.”

Harry is close enough that Louis has to tilt his head back slightly to see him, it’s infuriating and nauseating and he is fuming, but he hides it behind a cold, unwavering glare. “M’afraid not,” he shrugs.

Harry sneers at him, his gaze low. “I know you’re still bitter, though I’m not sure if it’s the Aiden thing or the football thing, both are still sensitive topics for you _I’m sure,_ but everyone else doesn’t have to suffer because of it,”

Louis’ expression hardens in complete disbelief, he contemplates hitting him square in the face at the sparks of rage that shoot through him and he steps forward.

“Did you fucking just– you know _nothing_ about me!” he shouts, louder over the music.

Harry almost looks surprised at his outburst. “Still so fucking sensitive,” he’s unwavering, stepping in closer still and further eliminating the space between them, their bodies are almost flush– if this is supposed to be some kind of intimidation technique it isn’t working.

“And you’re still so fucking childish–“

“ _I’m_ childish? You’re the one who started all of that shit because you didn’t get your way, honest to fucking god, Louis,” Harry cuts in, stepping further into Louis’ space, his harsh eyes gazing into him.

“I guess your version is a little different to mine–“ Louis cuts himself short, his breath catching in his throat.

Harry is close, his fierce eyes burning into Louis but not like they do when he’s mad, this is – this is different. If Louis knew any better he’d say it’s something almost verging on desire, and it causes a strange, hot and fucking _satisfying_ twist to coil in his stomach.

Louis sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes Harry isn’t moving away, he can feel the outline of his hipbone digging into the lower parts of his stomach, the fabric of their jeans rubbing together.

But it’s _Harry._

“What are you–“ he manages to whisper, with whatever willpower he has left. His breath hitches in his throat when Harry just pushes in closer, rolling his hips against him and pressing his hard crotch against Louis’ escalating arousal, spreading warmth all over his skin. And God, he smells good. Like a cologne Louis can’t quite place, but he would _bathe_ in it if he could.

Louis lets out a shuddery breath and swallows deeply when he sees Harrys hand slide down to unbutton his jeans.

“Yeah?” Harry is looking at him for approval, his voice is gruff, raspy, breathless and shit, _shit_ , it just makes Louis pull him closer by twisting his hand in the hem of his shirt.

This is so, so wrong, he can’t _stand_ this boy. But the blinding heat and uncontrollable want overpowers any self-control he’s able to muster.

“Yeah,” he breathes, following in suit and stripping off his clothes, _what the fuck_.

He doesn’t even have time to process what is happening before Harry is pushing him onto his bed (roughly, he might add) and pulling a condom and a bottle of lube out of his dresser which he throws at Louis with little care.

“Prepared much?” Louis mutters, a little breathless as he eye’s Harry’s naked body in front of him.

“Just fuck me, idiot.” He gets on the bed, squirting lube onto two fingers and pressing them against himself, with a low exhale they slowly sink inside, and then he proceeds to move in and out in quick motions. Louis is fucking transfixed. He wont lie – it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, hands down, and he feels it straight down to his half hard cock, and in goosebumps prickling over his entire body. Holy _hell_.

He tears his eyes away painfully and fumbles with the condom, its bright pink–neon, even. He doesn’t think he has the words to comment on it right now though.

Harry turns so he’s on his knees and it makes Louis dizzy, his chest coiling with blazing heat, beads of sweat already forming across his skin. Louis doesn’t miss a beat, he grips onto Harry’s hips, feeling the firm muscles move beneath his fingers, and he pushes into him, and _fuck­–_ Louis feels like he’s on fire.

“Oh my God,” Harry gasps, his voice a raspy groan and it sends shivers down Louis’ spine. He’s struggling to even think about anything except the heat pooling inside of him.

Harry’s body jerks as Louis concentrates on thrusting into him, his hands digging into Harry’s hips and small moans escaping his throat, though Harry isn’t exactly quiet either, he’s panting and emitting breathy moans as he leans on his elbows and Louis is suddenly grateful for the loud music downstairs. Not that any of that is exactly on his mind right now.

“Fuck– _harder–“_ Harry hisses, gasping as Louis complies, though maybe a little _too_ rough he’ll admit. Harry winces. “A-ah!”

“You alright, love?” Louis smirks then continues to work himself in and out of Harry, trying to control his heavy pants.

“Jesus – fuck,” Harry moans, and something shoots down Louis’ spine. “Bigger than I thought you would be,”

“Fucking hell, would you just be quiet,” he digs his fingers deeper into Harrys hips, taking satisfaction in hearing Harry gasp, but his body loosens against Louis’ and he presses into him deeply and in a steady rhythm until all he can hear are Harry’s moans, their heavy breathing, the bed shifting against the wall and the sound of their hot skin slapping together.

Breathing becomes even more difficult when he feels the searing white-hot heat build up in his gut, and he picks up the pace until every single one of their panting breaths is coming out in a whimpered moan and the bed is fucking shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my–– _fuck–_ yes, Lou––yes, fucking hell––“

He works in deeper, his hips stuttering and burying himself in Harrys arse, and he slides his hand over his hips, down to his cock, and tightly clenches his hand around it and works it, jerking him off until Harry erupts. He’s coming over his bed sheets and Louis’ hand and it’s nothing if not utterly pleasurable, despite who it is, it’s warm and all over Louis’ fingers and Harrys entire body jerks and trembles with the sensation and he lets out a moan that’s so fucking sensual Louis comes soon afterwards, still inside of the other boy, and he completely loses himself.

He pulls out and collapses onto the bed still pressed against Harry, his body is filled with a mess of sensations and erratic breathing and he’s only vaguely registering where he is, or who he’s with. It takes a moment, a moment of both of them struggling to move, struggling to _breathe_ before Harry shifts.

“You about done, yeah? You’re all gross, get off me.” Harry says, his voice ragged after somewhat catching his breath, and he nudges Louis away before grabbing a towel off the floor and heading towards a room that Louis suspects is the bathroom.

Louis chucks the condom into a bin, and reaches down to pick up his clothes, eyes catching on Harrys arse admirably before snapping to reality because, no, that’s gross. “Music still goes down. Don’t think this distracted me.”

“Oh no, that was totally my intention.” Harry turns back to him, looking unbearably obnoxious. Louis keeps his eyes waist up. “Fuck, you’re annoying. Whatever, I’ll do it, just piss off.”

And that is enough. Because frankly, Louis does not want to be in this room a second longer.

Harry disappears into the bathroom, Louis hears the faint sound of a shower and wipes his hands on Harrys bed sheets before throwing on his clothes, checking his hair in the mirror so Zayn has no reason to suspect anything happened, then he slinks downstairs through the party and out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’d you do last night?” Louis hears Zayn ask as he walks into the kitchen.

It’s seven o’clock and Louis has been sitting up at the breakfast bar the entire morning since he had gotten in from next door, his third cup of tea resting in his hands. It’s gone cold, like they all seemed to before he remembered to drink them. But he doesn’t really care.

Zayn was in his room when Louis had gotten back after _that_ happened. Whatever that was. And Louis was extremely grateful for that because his body was still full of adrenaline with a pinch of utter disdain, and there was definitely no way he could hide that from Zayn. Zayn _knows_ him, he knows when things are bad or weird or different, but he also knows when Louis doesn’t want to talk, and right now, he really doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you mean?” he asks, completely nonchalant.

“It was, like, dead quiet after you got back. _Jesus_ – did you threaten someone?” Zayn asks, already sounding disappointed.

Louis tries to look offended. “What? No, why do you always assume the worst?”

Zayn shrugs as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. “I’m usually right. So what happened? Did you run into Harry––“

Louis coughs, almost choking on his tea and earns himself a confused glance from Zayn. “Oh– um. Well, yeah he was the only one that wasn’t completely wasted so I just asked politely… then said I wouldn’t leave if he didn’t turn it down. Seems that was a terrible alternative for him,” _and then we fucked_. Okay. Maybe he’ll leave that part out.

Zayn nods casually. “Well, nice one,” he says, seeming convinced, and heads back upstairs.

And okay. Cool. That’s that.

Louis tips his cold tea into the sink and thinks he might steer clear of Zayn for the next few hours, in case he blurts out something incriminating. He’s sort of betting that Harrys in same boat.

Harry. Shit.

He –– he just fucked _Harry_. The sixteen year old boy from Cheshire with dimples and reeking of innocence– no. No, not him. It’s Harry, the boy who spent a year travelling and is now some hippie sex god or whatever. Louis is putting everything on Harry keeping this to himself as well. No one needs to know. He never has to think of it again if no one knows.

He’s frustrated at himself more than anything. Stupid urges. If anything, he probably hates Harry even more now for making him feel this way. And okay, it’s wasn’t _terrible_ sex, it’s not like he wasted any of his life while he was there –– but it was sex with Harry. Which makes this whole situation incredibly fucking disturbing.

It’s not the gay thing, that’s not what he finds disturbing. He’s been happily out since he was fourteen. It’s everything else, it’s why he even started hating Harry in the first place, and it comes back in floods and moments, rushing to the forefront of his mind from the dark corners where Louis left everything and it’s all too much. So if he wants to survive this, he’s not going to let himself dwell on it any further.

It was a one time thing. He’s going to let it go.

. . . 

In the next few days that pass, Louis unfortunately discovers that letting it go is easier said than done, because Harry, being his neighbour, is _always fucking there._

Whenever Louis steps out of his house, Harry is sitting on his porch with Niall playing some dull indie song on their guitars. Or he’s planting his stupid flower garden (which, he might add, has attracted _a lot_ of bees. Louis has several marks on his arms from where he’s been stung). Or he’s walking past him with his stupid long legs to go to class, with no acknowledgement aside form a sideways sneer and the odd annoyed gaze, which Louis never fails to meet with the same hostility.

And now Louis is trying his best to sink down behind his raised textbook because he can see Liam and Harry approaching and he’s thinking maybe he can hide himself. It isn’t working.

“Louis, hey!” Liam yells cheerfully in the quiet of the lecture theatre, causing a few disgruntled students to look up from their laptops.  
  
Louis drops his textbook with a sigh and smiles at Liam, ignoring Harry who is appearing as irritated as Louis is feeling following behind him. Liam stops at the end of Louis’ row and faces Harry, nodding towards where Louis is sitting.

Harry gives Liam a look, brows drawn together, and says something Louis can’t quite hear, but it isn’t hard to guess.

“C’mon, Haz. For me?” Liam says, a little louder. And Harry lets out a very heavy sigh and steps towards Louis. And yeah, it’s getting really hard to keep liking Liam. It’s that goddamn smile.

Harry sinks down in the seat next to him, and Louis keeps his eyes fixedly on the projector screen, pursing his lips and trying really hard not to be distracted by how awkward he feels, since this is the first time he’s been in Harry’s space since The Incident.

“So, Louis,” Liam says, slightly hushed, leaning past Harry to talk to him and Louis wonders why he didn’t just fucking sit there in the first place. “You and Zayn up for drinks tonight? We’re all going to the pub with some mates if you’re interested,”

He tosses up whether or not its worth it to spend more time around Harry, or have Liam pressing for reasons why he can’t go. Besides, there’s alcohol involved. And he could definitely do with some, that’s for sure.

He doesn’t risk a glance at Harry and just meets Liam’s expectant eyes, exhaling. “Yeah. Okay, sounds great.”

Liam sort of beams a lot after that, and Louis ignores the heat radiating off of the body next to him. He definitely doesn’t think about how buried himself between those legs, or how he dug his fingers into his skin, grabbing onto his hipbones. He forces himself not to glance down at the tattoos on Harry’s arms, or the rings on his slender fingers, honestly what the _fuck_ –

He should really, definitely, stop looking right now.

. . . 

It’s almost nine o’clock when Harry arrives at the bar, not that Louis was really taking note or even noticed his absence, but the others had already been there for a good hour, and Louis assumed they all always travelled together. But that’s not any of his business anyway.

There’s grungy music playing throughout the room, laughter and noise flooding onto dark wooden floors and tables, smoke flowing from ashtrays, and bottles and glasses already building around them. Louis is still on his first pint though, which is apparently _shocking_ according to Zayn who is sitting next to him. Harry is somewhere down the other end of the table that they’re all sitting around, all being the five of them and some of the people who had been at their party the other night, Nick, Sophia, Caroline, Greg and Perrie.

Louis has done his best to insert himself into a conversation with Niall and Greg, it’s something about music that he doesn’t understand or really care about either but it makes for a good distraction from… the Harry situation.

“I just don’t think we should change those chords, makes it too…” Niall purses his lips contemplatively, “like we’re trying to be the Spice Girls or something.”

Greg looks at Louis, smiling, “Louis, you’re the unbiased middle ground, what’s your take on this?”

Louis grins and both of them, “I happen to love the Spice Girls,”

Greg beams at him triumphantly, and Niall huffs. “I’m going to take this up with someone who actually has taste,” he gets out of his seat and squeezes in between Zayn and Nick, starting up a new conversation there and Louis swallows down the rest of his drink.

“So you’re in some of Liam’s classes?” Greg asks.

Louis nods. “Neighbours as well,”

Greg raises his eyebrows. “Ah, so best of both worlds then?”

Louis snickers, “depends on how you look at it,” he smiles, “and you do music, correct?”

“Correct.” Greg confirms. “Niall and I are working on a group project. He’s a lot more stubborn than he lets on,”

Louis laughs. “Well, I didn’t understand a thing you boys were talking about but it sounds interesting,” he says, “clearly, I’m an expert in many fields,”

Greg laughs, and a look passes over his face too quickly for Louis to know what it means. “I’m sure you are.”

And, okay. There’s that.

Louis finishes another pint in the next hour that passes, he avoids looking down the other end of the table completely, instead peppering Greg with questions about his life and attempting to learn proper music terms, failing miserably, but it’s sort of worth it to see the goofy grin on Greg’s face. Cute. Hm.

And like. Louis doesn’t mean to be flirting, he isn’t even sure that’s necessarily what he’s doing, he just has that nature about him. He definitely doesn’t expect anything from it, he’s literally just had his meaningless fling, and it was with someone who comes with too much baggage and too many memories. It’s not going to happen again, and it’s not going to happen with Greg, but he’s still going to be nice. Making friends is part of starting over right? Right. So. That’s fine.

They end up exchanging numbers, and Louis gets up to use the bathroom.

He’s on his way back when he notices Harry.

The back door to the pub coming off of the bathrooms is propped open letting in a steady breeze, and Harry is outside in the dark alleyway, sitting on the ground against the fence, looking down at his phone. Louis didn’t even see him leave the table.

He’s only lit up by the moonlight, his face slightly illuminated by the light from his phone, and he looks ridiculous. Like some pretentious vampire impersonator with his sharp jaw and broad shoulders, clad entirely in black clothes as well which doesn’t help. Louis finds himself frowning. He doesn’t know why this boy is so fucking weird, or what his deal is, or why he even cares. But like everything in his life, Louis isn’t thinking, and he’s walking towards him into the faint light, and it’s quiet, everything melts away into black and white darkness.

“You’re really fucking weird, you know,” Louis says, breaking the silence and leaning in the doorway.

Harry looks up at him. It’s strange; in the dim light Louis can’t see the green in his eyes. Nothing really feels like it’s in colour.

“What do you want, Louis?” he sounds annoyed, but also kind of like he can’t be bothered at the same time. There’s a disconcerting sort of exhaustion to his voice, and something tucked away behind his eyes. Behind where Louis can see.

“What are you doing out here?” he finds himself asking, not sure if he’s even interested in the response.

Harry looks at him dubiously. “Admiring the view? Getting a tan? What’s it to you?”

And okay, that’s probably deserved. Because it isn’t any of Louis’ business what Harry’s looking at on his phone or why he has to do it in this creepy fucking alleyway. It really isn’t. It’s also not Louis’ place to wonder why Harry’s face looks so distant, he’s not even glaring, he just… he looks uncomfortable. Odd.

Louis huffs. “Whatever. S’ not my problem if you get murdered out here.”

Harry lets out a strangled laugh, and it feels so wrong. “I’m sure you’re _so_ worried about that.”

And really, all Louis can think to do is roll his eyes and storm back to the table. He doesn’t even think about Harry the rest of the night, honestly, he doesn’t.  

. . . 

Louis decides his life is officially the worst when he wakes with a hangover the next morning. And with a quick glance out the window he sees the car is gone, so Zayn isn’t there to dote on him and everything is really the fucking worst. But it’s his day off, so that’s something.

He sleeps for a few more hours, then finally gets up to eat something and drink too many cups of tea. He doesn’t bother to get changed, the air is too warm for a shirt and his sweats are the next best thing to walking around the house naked. Laptop scrolling takes up some time, and his eyes wander of desperate Facebook posts, but his brain is sort of all over the place.

And yeah, maybe he’s still thinking about Harry. Because it’s hard to fuck someone and not think a little differently about them. He’s still an asshole, last night made that much clear, and there’s still the unspoken past that he can’t seem to stop thinking about. But there was something, last night, and Louis thinks maybe if he lingered a little longer… he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know what he would do, what he expects would happen. He can ignore that anyway. They’re older now, so like, Louis can just be mature and move on right? Right. He is completely indifferent to Harry living next door and invading his life. Completely. It doesn’t complicate things _at all._

It’s not like their relationship has changed much anyway, they don’t really acknowledge each other unless Liam is there, and even then their interactions seem to be full of heated stares. So that’s normal enough. And it was probably what Louis needed anyway, a pointless, mind-numbing fuck with no strings attached. And now he’s over it, and he can move on.

He’s tapping away at his thigh, lost in thought, when he gets a knock at the door.

To clarify, he gets a knock at his _bedroom_ door. Which––unless it’s Zayn skipping class––is really fucking weird and creepy.

He gets up anyway and opens the door to see Harry standing there in his stupid skinny jeans and bare feet, somehow looking both expectant and bored.

Louis frowns at him. “Did you break in?”

Harry just shrugs, eyes fluttering over Louis’ bare chest for a brief second. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”

Louis stares at him. “So you just… let yourself in. Okay.”

Harry shrugs again, seeming disinterested. God, he’s so annoying.

Louis breathes deep. “What do you want, Harry?”

A flicker of confusion crosses Harrys face. “Didn’t Liam text you?”

“No?”

Harry lets out a long, breathy groan. “He left his jacket here a few days ago, he’s working late and apparently needed it. Sent me to pick it up.”

Louis vaguely remembers Liam’s coat, mainly because it’s the kind you’d wear with sportswear which Louis and Zayn are both very unfamiliar with.

“Alright,”

He steps past Harry, feeling a little naked when Harry’s shirt brushes against his ribcage. He ignores the shiver that rushes over through his body and heads downstairs, hearing Harrys’ footsteps behind him.

That jogs something in his memory, only barely there, scratching at the surface of the old, dusty chests in the shadows at the back of his mind. Summer, the air too hot in Louis’ room so they had raced down the stairs, diving deep into the cold pool, the smell of chlorine, the too bright sun, and ice creams on the porch. And he was going to tell Harry, tell him he was someone’s dirty little secret, because once upon a time Louis had trusted him, but his mum interrupted before he got a chance. And maybe that was for the best. That Louis was too fucking naive.

He shakes the thought and finds Liam’s jacket strewn over the back of the couch, he hands it out to Harry who takes it between his fingers. Louis then looks at him blankly, raising his eyebrows a little while Harry sort of just stands there.

Harry squints at him, opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but then shakes his head and turns to leave.

“What?” Louis says, frustrated.

“What?” Harry faces him again.

“You looked like you were going to say something,” Louis internally slaps himself.

Harry breathes deeply. “I was going to ask, what’s with the death glares? They seem a bit more excessive than usual, it’s upsetting Liam,”

Louis snorts. “It’s not like they haven’t been reciprocated,” Harry is still looking at him as if he deserves a more dignified answer. “Your flowers attract a lot of bees. I’ve gotten stung like, three times.”

Okay. So that’s not entirely a reason.

Harry chuckles coldly. “Wow. And I didn’t even have to _train_ them to do that!” he pushes his hair back in that annoying way he always does and leans against the dining table. “And you do know that a lot of bees is a good sign right? The bee population is dwindling, if anything, I should be mad at you for _not_ having a garden.”

Louis rolls his eyes, sure he has a point but Louis is not about to give him that satisfaction. “Are you done?”

Harry just shakes his head. “Fuck, I don’t know how Liam can stand to be around you for so long. You drive me insane.”

Louis gives him the most charming smile he can muster. “Glad we have that covered. Thanks for the lovely visit, you pretentious arsehole. You can go now,”

Harry scowls. “You’re so fucking rude, honestly, how did you manage to get worse overnight, I’m astounded.”

Louis’ forehead creases, exhaling heavily. “I do wonder if it’s actually possible for you to shut your mouth for longer than two seconds,”

Harry laughs coldly. “That’s not hypocritical at all, really, I mean, coming from you,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? That’s kind of your thing, big talker but all of your loud words are just to make up for something else that’s missing. You feel inferior, so you take it out on other people, and you don’t know when to –“

“You should really stop talking,” Louis says, his voice low.

“I wish you would take your own advice for once,” Harry strains, like it actually pains him. Louis loathes it.

“Great, I’ll jot that down on my list of things that piss you off,” Louis says dryly, he leans against the bannister of the staircase, looking suspiciously at Harry giving him a once over, green eyes locked onto him. “What? What are you looking at?”

Harry sighs and bites down on his bottom lip for a considerable amount of time like he’s mulling something over in his head. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Okay. So they’re doing this.

Louis lets out a deep breath. “What’s there to talk about? We fucked. One time. So…”

Harry smirks, shrugging his shoulders and moving in a little closer. “Just making sure you didn’t get the wrong idea, don’t want you to fall in love with me or anything,”

Louis snickers. “I can promise you that won’t be a problem,”

Harry feigns a pout. “Oh? I’m hurt,”

“You should be,” Louis mutters, hardening his gaze but falling short when all Harry’s face is present with is confusion. “I don’t do _love_ Styles, now are you planning on sticking around? Liam didn’t schedule a play-date for you but I’m sure I’ll find something to keep you occupied with,” he jokes before he can think better of it.

Harrys face lights up, his mouth twisting into a smirk, and his eyes locked on Louis in a heavy, half-lidded gaze. He steps closer. “Really?”

Louis’ chest feels too fast, too soon. He’s still a meter away from Harry, what the fuck is wrong with him.

And yet, he sucks in a harsh breath when Harry takes one bold stride forward and pulls at the waist band of Louis’ sweats, edging him closer until their bodies are flush, his pupils wide and dark and Louis can’t seem to find it in him to look away, his stomach is tightening and his heart racing and Harry is so, so close.

He can feel Harrys warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he’s really struggling to control his breathing as Harry’s hands lightly trace over his bare back, his chest heaving, Harrys fingers delicate and sending shivers all through his body in a rush as he stares at him, emerald and gold, biting down on his bottom lip.

He tilts his head back slightly, pressing his back against the bannister and feeling Harry’s breathing on his neck, their chests pressed close together, warm, and Louis’ stomach clenches further. Harry’s hands slip down to Louis’ sides and grip onto his hips briefly, thumbs pressing into the softer skin there, and then they slide down, ghosting over his arse. It’s odd. But feels fucking incredible.

Harry’s got his knee in between Louis’ thighs, and in a single movement, he rolls his hips against him, his steady erection pressing against Louis’ semi in a satisfying wave heat and Louis’ stomach twists in all the right ways. He lets out a satisfied noise, and Harry stiffens.

Harry rolls his hips forward again, another moan escapes Louis’ throat, Harry sucks in a sharp breath and fuck– Louis feels himself going painfully hard just being in this boys _presence_ which is fucking ridiculous. He can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his sweats, pre-come already smearing his boxers, and without wasting any time he squeezes at Harry’s hips underneath his shirt.

“Fucking hurry up, would you?” he practically growls, and Harry smirks, running a hand along Louis’ lower back, more confident, but Louis stops him.

“Not here,” he says, breathless, and Harry pouts, seeming genuinely put out by the idea of having to go all the way upstairs which is really fucking typical. So bloody lazy. But there is no way Louis is risking getting caught.

They barely make it to Louis’ room when Harry is taking off his shirt and Louis is hastily falling backwards onto the bed, it’s quick and insistent when Harry crawls in between his legs.

Louis swallows as Harry moves in, any snarky comment he could have made dissolving into thin air, Harrys fingers wrapping around his length and jerking him off in slow, deliberate movements, and Louis dips his head back against the pillow and lets his eyes flutter closed, rapid breaths catching in his throat.

He picks up the pace, and Louis’ mouth falls open to let out heavy, frenzied breaths and strained moans until he’s painfully hard and fucking impatient. He grips at Harry’s hair giving him a sharp tug until he finally feels the boy take him in his mouth. He struggles to keep his hips still as he feels Harry’s lips on the tip, gentle at first, and then he runs his tongue along the underside of Louis’ shaft and slowly licking a stripe upwards.

Louis groans, and gazes down at Harry working his entire fucking throat around him, his eyes locked onto him as well, watching him, steady as his red lips slip further and further down, keeping constant eye contact. He starts to gradually pick up speed, his head bobbing, and Louis knows he is completely gone, he squeezes his eyes shut again, grabbing a fistful of his bed sheets. “ _F-fuck_ –“

Harry flattens his hands over Louis’ thighs, moaning softly around his cock and Louis juts his hips forward again, sweat dampening his skin, he almost passes out when Harry lets out another long, steady groan around him, gravelly, low.

“Oh my God,” Louis moans brokenly, trying to breathe but it grows more and more difficult when Harry works even faster. “Fuck,” he chokes, gasping out choppy breaths as Harry worked his tongue over him. “Fuck– I’m gonna–“

Harry doesn’t move away, instead he just slows his pace, deepening his mouth over Louis, his tongue almost artfully playing over his length, Louis bucks his hips forward, sounds of pleasure escaping his lips as some warning. But Harry keeps his lips locked around him. And Louis comes in his mouth.

Harry swallows and Louis breathes out heavily, falling pliant on the bed. After a few drawn out moments, Harry lets go of his thighs and shuffles up on the bed, lying on his back next to him, his tattooed chest rising and falling.

“Well, at least now I know one thing you’re good at,” Louis breathes.

“What’s that? Do enlighten me,” Harry says, a rough break in his voice that causes another spark of heat to curl in Louis’ gut.

“Just that, despite the fact that you’re rubbish at pretty much everything, you make up for it. Stellar blowjob,” Louis smiles irreverently at Harry and then turns back to the ceiling.

“Was that a half-compliment?” Harry asks, amused.

Louis shrugs, “I’m in a giving mood, what can I say?”

“Well I’m truly _honored._ ” Harry says. “Though, I am surprised you haven’t tried to one-up me on this, it’s a bit out of character for you,”

“I’ll let you have your moment,” Louis says, like he’s doing him a favor.

“How generous of you,” Harry says, exhaling a steady breath and then shifting to get up.

Louis sits up too, watching as Harry picks up his shirt that is somehow hanging from the corner of Louis’ bookshelf.

“As always, Louis,” Harry says, buttoning his shirt, “it’s been a _real_ pleasure,”

Louis smirks wryly, eyebrows furrowing as Harry leaves. He sinks back onto the bed, spending a good few minutes wondering what the fuck just happened.

. . . 

Louis is late for class the next day. And it might be entirely his own fault, he’ll admit.

He left the house later than he usually would for no particular reason, and it definitely had nothing to do with his internal plan to avoid Harry Styles at all costs because everything between them is just too fucking weird and uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how he let it happen _twice._ What does that even make them? What does any of this even mean now?

After fidgeting for almost an hour, he finally left the house five minutes after the van drove off next door, but the two are completely unrelated. 

. . . 

Zayn could sleep for an eternity, he really could. His bones ache from literally doing nothing, and there’s a painting in front of him that he’s been fussing over for hours. He’s trying to make _something_ of it, but he’s just tired, really. Even though he only woke up a few hours ago, he’s tired and could really use a good blowjob or one of those rare bursts of inspiration. Either would do just fine.

Sadly, he’s got neither. And the unfinished painting is screaming at him. He doesn’t know what time it is but the sun has already moved across the sky, allowing the slow, progressive bursts of light to bleed into the room. He hasn’t taken a break yet, being so completely in the zone he had forgotten to even eat. It happens.

He’s frustrated, really, as he sometimes is with art, and he’s worried his frustrations are obvious in the work, though it might be because he hasn’t taken a single moment to properly look at it. It looks interesting. But, like. That’s a completely biased opinion.

He groans and leans against his stool, eyes fixed on the work sitting on the easel. And then he hears the door open behind him.

“Um. Hey.”

Zayn whips around abruptly, almost knocking over a water container from the bench next to him, catching it between his fingers.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, steadying his bench. Niall is standing in his doorway holding a hessian bag full of something and staring at the painting behind him in awe.

“Zayn. Shit. That’s… that’s amazing. You’re amazing. I had no idea you were so talented,” he says with bright, wide eyes.

“It’s a work in progress,” Zayn glares, “you shouldn’t just barge in here, I nearly made a mess.”

“Shit, sorry.” Niall mumbles, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Christ. I keep embarrassing myself in front of you,” he chuckles nervously, shaking his head. Zayn feels strange, like, he didn’t even think someone like Niall knew how to be embarrassed.

Zayn’s face softens. There’s something different about Niall today since the last time they really interacted, when Niall was very drunk and very confident. Zayn has admittedly been trying to avoid him since then because his overly friendly demeanor is somewhat of a conundrum, and Zayn isn’t sure if he wants to delve much deeper. He’s never known someone like him. And as unsettling as that is, he seems more… himself, now.

Zayn shakes his head, unsure of where his thought process is going.

“Ah, what’s up?” he asks casually.

“I um–“ he takes the bag off of his shoulder, “we’re growing tomatoes and there’s so many, even Liam is struggling to keep up,” he laughs nervously, “do you guys want some?”

Zayn is about to respond when Niall opens his mouth again. “Or I could cook some up, make a sauce with them and make us pasta for dinner if you’re not busy?”

Zayn clears his throat, which has gone considerably dry, and he wipes his hands on his flannel shirt already covered in dried paint. Niall is looking at him with some kind of glimmer of hope in his eyes and Zayn just _knows_ he’s going to feel really fucking guilty if he turns it down, he doesn’t want to be a complete asshole after all. “I’m actually working on this right now but um, you could get started on that, I’ll be done soon,”

Niall brightens, a smile stretching across his face. Really quite bright and not too much, not like he thought it would be. Zayn doesn’t reciprocate the expression however.

“Great, um– what time will Louis be home? I could call the others over?”

Zayn grimaces. Fuck. What did he agree to? Louis is going to be pissed.

Still, he finds himself saying, “he’ll be done in a few hours,” and yeah, Louis is definitely going to be pissed.

Niall nods. “Cool. Mind if I take over your kitchen?”

Zayn shrugs, turning back to his painting, and away from the universe that is Niall. “Go for it.”

He doesn’t add much more to his work, considering with each mark he just finds himself getting more and more frustrated. Everything looks wrong and his colours never turn out right, but he can hear Niall doing whatever he’s doing in the kitchen. The sounds of cutlery and humming, its sort of unfamiliar but at the same time kind of… nice to listen to. Kind of.

He wanders downstairs towards the sound of Niall humming, and when he gets to the kitchen he’s greeted with the sight of pots and pans and cutlery and an assortment of kitchen utensils that Zayn wasn’t even aware of owning all spread out over their counter tops, and Niall is running something that looks like dough through a strange contraption.

“What is that?” Zayn asks, leaning against the counter next to Niall, watching him working the apparatus so effortlessly and feeling completely ignorant in comparison.

Niall smiles. “Pasta roller. Had to pop next door to grab it.”

“I thought you were just going to,” he gestures vaguely, flailing his arms around lamely, “we have that bagged stuff, you know?”

Niall shrugs, “nah. Prefer to make it myself. Oh, hope you don’t mind, I raided your cupboards, you guys like banoffee pie?”

“Mate. We sort of like anything when we don’t have to make it ourselves,” he chuckles, “so, homemade pasta _and_ dessert, what’s the occasion?”

Niall beams again, bright. Brighter than the sun. “Nothin’, just a good day.”

And a strange warmth settles in the pit of Zayn’s stomach, just barely noticeable, but still there. He really wants to smile right now.

“Need a hand?” he finds himself asking.

“Could chop those tomatoes?”

Zayn nods, grabbing a knife from the cutlery draw and suddenly he’s helping Niall prepare dinner while they wait for everyone to come home. He’s crushing biscuits for the base of Niall’s pie, he’s chopping bananas and dipping slices into the caramel, earning himself a slap on the wrist because:

“Zayn! It’s for the pie, you’re going to ruin your appetite,” and Niall grabs the bowl from Zayn’s lap where he’s perched on the side of the breakfast bar.

“You clearly have no idea how much of an appetite I have then, Niall,”

And Niall smirks as he turns away to finish making the pie, Zayn can see it, can see him fighting it as he looks down at his hands chopping all sorts of food, but it’s there. And Zayn’s day might have gotten a little brighter after that.

. . . 

There are a few things Louis didn’t expect to see when he gets home.

Zayn in the kitchen with Niall is definitely one of them. They’re setting the dining table that they never use with placemats that they never use and nice cutlery that they never use, and Zayn has a bright look on his face, his shirt smeared with flour rather than paint.

He didn’t expect the house to smell like an Italian restaurant and see Niall in the kitchen grating chocolate onto a fucking banoffee pie, or stirring a massive pot of homemade tomato sauce and slapping Zayn’s hand away when he dips his finger in to taste it, both of them giggling like teenagers.

He didn’t expect to see Liam and Harry sitting on his couch watching TV while they apparently wait for what admittedly looks like a five star meal cooked by what also looks like a married fucking couple. So yeah, he is very confused. What the fuck is going on.

“What the fuck is going on?” he whispers into Zayn’s ear and Zayn jumps at his sudden presence, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

“Oh, um. Sorry. Was going to text you but I just–“ he coughs, and Louis looks at him oddly. “Niall offered to cook dinner. Felt rude to say no,”

Louis nods, arching his eyebrows slightly. “Alright. And are you… okay?”

Zayn looks at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Louis shrugs. “Just a little out of character, nice to see you smiling so much though,”

“I– I wasn’t–“

“I’m being serious, it’s good, Zayn. It’s good.” Louis assures him. And it is good. It’s just fucking weird, and making the whole avoidance plan really difficult.

Niall’s cooking is incredible. Louis suggests he ditch the music career and take up hospitality instead, and they all fall into conversations like real, proper friends. And Louis almost finds himself talking to Harry as if they’re real, proper friends. As if it was like when they first met. But he stops himself, and in the end he doesn’t say a word to him.

It’s just that, aside from Zayn, whenever he spends time with his other friends it usually involves too much alcohol and shit talking about nothing that matters. This, though. This feels like the dinner parties he would go to with his family, way back when, and he doesn’t know if those memories are even real, or if they’re just manufactured to make everything not seem so broken.

His situation might be so incredibly fucked, but yeah, he’s trying. Everything is backwards and twisted but he really is trying. He hopes that’s enough.

It’s when his phone rings that the first cracks start to show.

Everyone has cultivated in the lounge again because Niall had to catch a show that he simply couldn’t watch in his own flat. And Louis’ phone is vibrating, it seems louder in his head, and he goes momentarily frozen while he stares at the caller ID.

A flicker of concern passes Zayn’s eyes, Louis just smiles wearily and takes it outside on the porch.

“Mum,” he breathes, “hi. Is everything okay?”

“ _Hey, Lou! It’s Lottie_.”

Louis breathes a sigh of relief. “Lott’s, hey, you okay? Why didn’t you call me on your phone?”

“ _Sorry, it’s charging in my room. I’m fine, just wanted to talk, um, how are you_?”

Louis slowly paces along the patio. “I’m alright. Uni is a piece of work but I’m doing well.”

“ _Good, that’s good. What about Zayn, how is he_?”

“He’s fine, spends all of his time painting and all that.” Louis frowns in the silence that follows. “You sure everything is alright?”

He hears Lottie sigh heavily. “ _Mum’s got a new boyfriend_.”

His chest sinks.

“Oh.”

“ _He’s okay, like, nice an’ all, its just weird cause he’s my teacher so like_ –“

“Wait, seriously?” Louis interrupts, brows furrowing.

“ _Yeah. I liked having him as a teacher but now it’s a bit weird… Sorry for calling, but it’s not like I can talk to her about it. I mean I know she tries her best but sometimes… she just makes it worse._ ”

“Hey, don’t ever feel like you can’t call me, I know what it’s like.”

Another pause.

“ _I just wish you were here sometimes_.”

Louis sighs, lengthy and sad. “I know… I’m sorry I haven’t visited in ages. I’ve just been so busy–“

“ _You don’t have to make up excuses, I know it’s hard for you. I just miss you. We all do. Even mum, though she won’t say it_.”

Louis nods, as if trying to convince himself. “I know. I’ll visit soon, I promise. I just have a lot on my mind these days. I… I just need some time.”

“ _Yeah, Lou. That’s okay, just know that whenever you’re ready, we’ll be here_.”

Louis presses his lips together, eyes stinging. “I know,” he breathes.

“ _I have a friend coming over to study so I better go, we’ll talk later yeah? I miss you bro_.”

Louis closes his eyes. “Miss you too,” and he ends the call.

When he gets back inside, he makes up some lame excuse about a tiring day and a shit-ton of homework waiting for him, and it’s mostly true, though he doesn’t have much intention of doing any of it. He knows they can all tell he’s got something else on his mind, it’s written on all of their faces plain as day and he knows. But it’s easier to pretend he’s fine, that it’s just the same old emotional scars and twisted relationships that he’s used to, that he’s built up this barrier against.

There’s a wave of concern across everyone’s faces, even Harrys, Harry who he blames for so much of it. So yeah, it’s easier for everyone if they just pretend.

He cocoons himself up in blankets on his bed and eventually Zayn comes in and lies down next to him.

“Alright? Was that Jay?” Zayn asks, burying his face into the crook of Louis’ neck, smoothing a hand over his side.

“It was Lottie. She was just catching me up on the newest family updates,”

Zayn tilts his head at him. “That’s all? You sure?”

Louis nods. “That’s’ all.”

. . .  

Louis feels like he’s on fire the next day.

Nothing really makes sense but he knows Harrys been staring at him since he stepped into the lecture theatre. Luckily this seems to be their one paper without Liam so they aren’t forced to sit together, but Louis made the stupid decision to sit two rows in front of Harry. And yeah, Harry’s definitely glaring at him, Louis can feel it burning into the back of his neck, it’s like the boys’ goal in life is to torture him.

“Alright!” a man with silver hair walks into the room, snapping Louis out of his tense slouch. “Welcome to the best Bio paper you will ever take, if you engage with anything in this course, let it be my incredible class,” Louis rolls his eyes, “My name is Professor Reynolds and we are going to start off with something really fun.” Louis can already hear the sarcasm rolling off his tongue, oh good god, “your first assignment is a molecular biology research project, and you will be completing it in pairs!”

The room fills with groans. Louis definitely contributes. He fucking hates working with other people.

And okay, his heart might be racing that little bit faster because there’s a good chance he’ll have to work with Harry. And that defeats the whole _avoid at all costs_ thing he’s been working on. It’s a lot more difficult than he first thought, what with them being neighbours and all, and the weird thing forming with Zayn and Niall that he hasn’t bothered to question.

He glances around as much as he can without looking behind him, where Harry is. All unfamiliar faces but he can bet he’d get more work done with any of them. Not that he has a choice anyway, because Professor Reynolds has already started pairing everyone off and he’s nearing them. A knot twists in Louis’ stomach, there’s no way the universe would be so fucking cruel, there’s absolutely no way his luck would be so goddamn terrible–-

“Styles, Tomlinson, buddy up!” Professor Reynolds gestures between them, grinning like he fucking _knows_ and Louis lets out a sigh, but the Professor doesn’t even seem to notice as he moves on to his next victims.

After a few long seconds of Louis trying to breathe normally, he spins on his seat and faces Harry who is looking down at him from two levels above. Smiling calmly. The little shit.

“Oh wow. You can go fuck yourself,”

Harry grins. “You should put that on a t-shirt,”

“I,” Louis states boldly, making sure to enunciate so Harry will get it, “am not working with you.”

That only seems to make him grin further. “Babe, I’m not happy about this either, but we don’t have a choice, gotta suck it up like big boys now,”

Louis deadpans a stare. “Don’t patronize me.”

Harry opens his mouth to speak but is cut of by Professor Reynolds, giving them an overview of the assignment and then a twenty minute long excited ramble about genetics. Louis feels sick the entire time.

“– so anyway, I think it would be best for you all to get started as soon as possible. But I’ll let you organize that yourselves,” he finishes.

Louis lets out a startled gasp when Harry appears in the seat next to him; he assumes he had climbed over the benches behind him as well. What the hell?

“Tomorrow good for you?” Harry asks expectantly.

Louis shrugs, shoving a textbook into his bag. “Yeah. I suppose.” He stands up.

Harry stands up too, backing away as he slings his bag over his shoulders. “You know where to find me,”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “That hipster paradise you call a bedroom?”

Harry claps his hands together excitedly. “Correct! Excellent, there may be something in that head of yours after all,”

Louis glares at Harry, glares at him even when he turns around and until he walks out of the room. He’s not staring, he’s _glaring,_ there’s a difference.

“You two look like you hit it off well!” Professor Reynolds says happily.

And, well. Louis glares at him too. 

. . . 

He’s nearly home when he gets a text.

 _Unknown Number_ : _My room. 10 minutes._

He frowns. There’s really no one else it could be from. And why on earth does Harry think he can just tell Louis when and where and that he’s just going to do it? There’s no way. No fucking way. Louis is stronger than this. He can resist him. They literally _just_ saw each other, what the _hell._

So that’s really why he’s groaning frustratingly, dumping his bag in his own flat and heading next door. He briefly hesitates, but he is already there, might as well follow through with it now.

The house is empty when he walks in, which is good. He assumes Harry isn’t that stupid as to invite him over when the others are there. They don’t need to know about this momentary streak of weakness he’s going through.

He heads upstairs and finds Harry sitting up on his bed, head deep in a book.

“How did you get my number?” he asks, slamming Harry’s door behind him (admittedly, a little too forcefully, but whatever) and he slides onto the bed next to him, leaning his back against the headboard.

Harry grins and puts the book down on his lap, turning to Louis. “Aw, you came,” he says with a hand to his heart.

“How did you get my number?” he asks again.

“Christ. You’re so uptight.” Harry says. “Liam’s phone, he’s your pal, right?”

Louis doesn’t feel the need to respond, and his eyes travel around Harry’s room. It looks different in the daylight, granted the last time he was in here he was fucking him in the dark, so he wasn’t really focusing on much else. But it’s covered in just as many knick-knacks as downstairs, and a lot, a lot of Polaroid photographs. A few of them feature a girl that looks familiar, the name is on the tip of Louis’ tongue.

“Gemma,” he says without really thinking.

Harry gives him a look, his shoulders stiffening. “What?”

“She’s your sister, yeah?” Louis asks, holding one of the photo’s on Harry’s bedside table.

“Yeah…” Harry says, almost weary, and abruptly takes the photo out of his hand.

Louis feels a heat of frustration at Harry’s sudden change in demeanour. This boy is so fucking hard to read, he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to. Instead, he lets his eyes drift down to the book sitting in Harrys lap. It’s a copy of _Bad Feminist._

“Want to read?” Harry asks, following his gaze. He’s different again, Louis notices, not so tense.

Louis does. He doesn’t want to say that though, because as far as Harry is concerned, Louis is only interested in what’s in his pants.

“Give it to me when you’re finished,” he says instead, watching as Harry does a small nod. “Now can we do this? You were so pushy in your text, I don’t know why you made me rush over here if you were just doing some light reading,”

Harry smirks, cocking his head. “Eager beaver,”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Actually I have work in an hour, and I don’t know when Niall and Liam get in but I’d like to be out of here before they do,”

Harry’s eyes glow, so fucking fake. “You mean we have a _whole hour_? Oh boy, the things I could do to you in an hour,”

Louis stares at him. “Just get your pants off,” and he slips off his own flannel shirt.

“As you wish,” Harry grins and starts to strip off easily. “I actually have work soon too,”

Louis gapes at him. “You work?”

“Jesus. Don’t sound so shocked.”

“Can’t help it, this is genuine shock.” Louis points to his face that is not at all genuine.

Harry rolls his eyes, slipping out of his jeans. “Niall and I teach music to kids,”

Of course he does. “Of course you do,”

Harry arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then his eyes drop down to Louis’ legs, still in his jeans. “Need help with that, study buddy?”

Louis glares. “Don’t call me that,” but lets Harry climb on top of him anyway, noticing his length already in a lube-covered condom.

Harry pulls off his jeans, his delicate fingers playing along the waistband of his boxers, before bringing them down as well and running his hands over the sensitive skin, then slowly presses three fingers inside of him, massaging them in and Louis’ breath hitches.

His hips jut against Harrys slick fingers, and his cock twitches painfully as he lets out a shuddery breath in sync with Harry pulling out. Then he pushes inside, and Louis’ head falls back as Harry grips onto his hips and thrusts, heat spreads like wild fire all the way through to the tips of his toes and he curses, his legs wrap around Harry who quickens his pace slightly.

“Good?” Harry asks, throaty and jagged breathing, but gentle. “Lou?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes hoarsely, clenching around Harry and his fingernails digging into Harry’s sides.

Their breathing is jagged and uneven, the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall filling the room, and Louis’ legs hug Harry tighter, the other boy gripping onto the headboard with one hand while the other grips onto him, thrusting again and Louis groans, sweat already drenching his skin.

Harry then shifts down to grip onto his shoulders, breathing heavily in the space next to him and his curls falling onto Louis’ chest as the bed shakes beneath them, pre-come from Louis’ still untouched cock spilling onto his stomach and dripping over his ribs. Harry thrusts deeper, the headboard pounding against the wall at the same pace.  

“Fucking hell–” Harry groans and buries his face further into the crook of Louis’ neck, letting out a satisfied sound as his hips work faster, his cock pounding into Louis, and Louis digs his fingers further into him, the bed shifting in sync with their bodies.

Harry grips onto Louis’ cock with his hand, still pushing into him and starts to jerk him off at the same pace. Louis feels inexplicable white-hot heat and he tightens around Harry. “Fucking– fuck, Harry, come on–“

Harry presses his forehead onto Louis’ chest, both whimpering in choppy breaths as he spills still inside of him, and only has to give Louis two tugs with his fingers before Louis is coming over his hand. “Fuck, Harry– _Jesus_ ,”

Harry’s hips slow, still inside of him, as their heavy pants echo in the room, and then he pulls out and loosens his body down next to him, breathing into his neck and they both collapse in a panting sweaty mess, Louis’ legs still tangled around Harrys but too fucking exhausted to move away just yet.

A few minutes pass before Louis finds himself breathing like a normal human again, and he swipes his hand across his forehead, pushing his sweaty fringe aside.

“You know what this was?” Harry says, his voice gruff and thick.

“What?” Louis turns to look at him, breath catching a little. Harry looks like the definition of pure sex, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes, and Louis isn’t really afraid to admit it, even when the dimple pops on one cheek. The cherub look is sort of overpowered by damp, messy hair, dilated pupils and swollen lips. Louis really cannot breathe.

Harry smirks. “A booty call,”

Louis snorts, pushing Harry’s weight off him and getting up off the bed. He can hear Harry snickering behind him so he picks up one of Harrys shirts and throws it at him, which he catches easily. “Fuck off,” Louis mutters.

“No, I think that’s your job.” Harry says, still chuckling.

Louis glares at him, and starts to look for his clothes.

“I hope our study sessions aren’t going to be like this, can’t be failing papers because you can’t keep it in your pants,” Harry says.

Louis scowls. “I believe it was you that invited me over actually?” and he starts getting dressed while Harry rests back with his hands behind his head and watches him with a pleasant smile on his face.

“Do you mind?” Louis looks at the green eyes fixed on his body. “Privacy?”

Harry snorts. “Privacy? Really? That’s not really fair,”

Louis huffs and finishes getting dressed, making sure to flip Harry off as he leaves to get ready for work in his own flat.

So. It happened again. How the fuck did it happen again? He thinks about it all through his shift, he thinks about Harry’s hair and the groans that escape his lips. Fuck –– he even thinks about what he _smells_ like. A hurricane of emotions reel through his thoughts, and _Jesus_ he can’t stop thinking about him.

He likes to think he can pull back, he does. Because yeah, he’d like to talk to Harry properly. There are so many memories, so many questions he’d like answered, thinking that maybe things would be easier if he did. Maybe he’d be able to properly move on, and control himself whenever he’s in Harry’s space.

He could try, he really could. So long as he doesn’t get in too deep, and he’s profoundly ignoring the voice at the back of his head telling him that he already is.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s too fucking bright out here, and that noise is distracting.”

Harry cocks his head to the side. “Noise… you mean like, birds? The sound of wind blowing through the trees? The outside world…?”

Louis glances up at the beams of sun peaking through the leaves of the tree they’re sitting under, completely isolated from the rest of the campus, green eyes looking at him, Harrys legs outstretched next to him, and yes, it’s all very distracting.

Harry had sent him a text earlier this morning to meet on the quad, and Louis just thought that meant that they’d be heading to a study room from there, or the library even. But no, Louis doesn’t know why on earth he would be so foolish as to think the world would actually play in his favour, because of course Harry wanted to study on the grass instead, and much to Louis’ dismay, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yes. All of the above.” He states plainly.

Harry narrows his eyes. “I like it, it’s nice,” he says, leaning back on his hands, biceps pulsing slightly as he dips his head back, closing his eyes and breathing deep.

Louis pokes him in the thigh with a pen. “Hey. We didn’t come to sunbathe.”

Harry sighs, prolonged, and then sits up properly. “You’re really no fun.”

“I gathered that.” Louis says, unbothered.

Harry bites down on his lip in focus as he runs his pen across the paper, still leaning back in a lazy position. He’s in another loose band shirt, it’s faded almost beyond recognition and the sleeves are gone completely leaving two gaping holes where they used to be, giving Louis a, frankly unnecessary, view of the slight indication of his ribs almost all the way down to his hips, and the tattoos decorating the skin there.

Louis chews on the inside of his cheek and looks away.

It’s been about as much of a joy working with Harry as Louis had expected. Though, there’s been less gore and destruction like he was picturing in his head. Liam was thrilled to say the least when he found out they were working together, even if it’s just for some pointless paper. Though he did worry about not being there for damage control, which Louis was upset about too, there’d be no chance of anything happening again ( _again)_ if there’s someone else with them. He supposes a public space does imply that nothing is going to happen.

“Hey. We didn’t come here to stare into stare into space,” Harry says in a mocking tone, Louis almost – _almost_ jumps at the sound of his voice, eyes snapping to him again. He’s grinning. Louis wants to punch him.

“I was _thinking._ ” Louis states defensively.

Harrys face lights up with fake interest and he rolls over onto his stomach, propping his head up on his elbows and resting his chin on his fists. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Louis stares at him flatly. “The theory of relativity, solipsism, the multiverse,”

Harry seems unbothered by the jibe. “Didn’t know there was so much going on up there,” he says, obvious sarcasm in his tone.

“Yeah, well, at least one of us has the mental capacity to finish this,” Louis mutters.

The next hour passes with Louis filling up a page in his textbook and short conversations with Harry actually relating to their work, it’s productive. Good. Harry can actually be timely and on to it when he wants to be. That’s good to know. For study reasons. Very good.

They had just finalized the outline for their project proposal when Harry snaps his book shut, letting out a relaxed sigh. “I think I’m done for the day.”

Louis nods, feeling similarly, and he slides his books into his bag. “Got work soon anyway,”

“Library? That’s by the music room’s right? I wanted to drop in on Niall.” Harry says casually, paying more attention to whatever is on his phone than Louis’ response.

“I think so, yeah.” He only knows because the university sound proofing and overall layout ideas are terrible, too many times he’s seen a disgruntled student storm away from their books and over to the music rooms to, less than politely, tell them to quiet the fuck down.

It seems as though that was an invitation for them to walk together, and the forlorn wave of nostalgia that washes over Louis almost makes him feel ill. The high school back in Donny had a big field, it stretched the entire length of the back of the school, a green expanse where he and Harry would hang out after football practice when they didn’t feel like going home just yet. Louis never really felt like going home, he’d rather go to Harry’s or stay on the field and watch the clouds. He spent a lot of time on that field, over by the trees out of sight, the shadows were a place that Aiden really enjoyed kissing him it would seem–

Nialls laughter can be heard when they’re still just approaching the building, that doesn’t surprise Louis much. Colourful sort, he is. Might even be growing on him slowly, and Louis can deal with that. He can deal with having friends that aren’t Zayn, even when they’re so unbelievably chipper like Niall, and even Liam, always glowing about life and love and all that sickly sweet garbage. It’s as unnerving as it is comforting, so he’ll stick with it for now.

He does, however, plan on walking straight past the music rooms and towards the library, but then Niall is stepping out, followed by Greg. Pretty Greg from a few nights ago. Huh. He’s not _entirely_ Louis’ type, not really, he’s a little too polished, a little too squeaky-clean around the edges, and he’s probably too nice. Louis hates that, it means expectations.

He catches Louis’ eye when they get closer, lighting up like fireworks and Niall waves happily.

“Look at you two, walking together without murdering each other, I’m impressed,” Niall says, and it’s refreshing to hear another humans voice when all Louis had for the past couple of hours was Harrys slow, droning tone.

Harry chuckles, pulling Niall in for a hug. “Don’t get used to it.”

Louis smiles awkwardly, noticing Greg still looking at him, so he steps off to the side while Harry falls into a conversation with Niall about something clearly not involving him.

“Hey,” Greg says, friendly as ever. “Wondering when I’d see you again.”

Louis laughs softly. “Been thinking about me?”

“Hard not to,” Greg says, and clears his throat, “that was… that was a hopeless attempt at flirting, I apologize in advance for any other rubbish endeavours you’ll have to suffer through,” he laughs, Louis notices Harry looking over in his peripheral.

Louis smiles warmly. “I’m a sucker for really bad flirting,”

Greg laughs again. “Is that so?”

Louis nods, flicking a wave to Niall who’s heading off.

Greg smiles bashfully. “I was actually wondering if you–“

“You’re going to be late for work,” Harry cuts in suddenly, there’s a weird edge to his voice but he’s smiling like usual, and gives Greg a quick wave before backing away and heading out the building.

Louis frowns, looking down at his phone. “What–– shit! I am, sorry.” Louis gives Greg a rushed apologetic look. “Can we pick this up another time?” he’s already backing towards the door.

Greg smiles awkwardly. “Yeah. No worries.”

“Great. I’ll see you!” and he hurries off to the library. His heart doing a whole bunch of weird things in his chest.

. . .

After a tiresome shift having to restack an entire aisle because some overtired and probably drunk student decided it was a good idea to walk around blindfolded, Louis and Zayn head next door. It’s just a thing that they do now, it would seem.

Louis is about to let himself inside when Zayn stops him in the doorway.

“Um. We have to take off early, remember?” Zayn says.

“We do?” Louis asks.

Zayn nods. “A friend of mine has an opening for her latest installation, I thought I told you the other day?”

Louis frowns, the memory sparking somewhere in the back of his mind. “You did, I just– I didn’t think I was going. I’ve literally never gone with you, you always tell me not to come because I’m too cynical and would embarrass you. Which is probably true.”

Zayn rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know, I just… it’ll be weird if I just leave.”

Louis smiles warmly. “I’m sure it won’t, Zayn. I can go with you though, if you want. Might enjoy it.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You wont, it’s… it’s really weird, I mean, _I_ love it but you’ll probably break something.”

Louis gives him a dead look. “That was _one_ time,” he says. “But whatever, if you say so. Why don’t you ask Niall to go with you?”

“Did I hear my name?”

Niall appears out of nowhere and pokes his head around the doorway.

Louis scrambles. “Oh um, I–“

“I’m going to an exhibition tonight and it’s kind of weird going alone,” Zayn says to Niall, much to Louis’ surprise. “Do you, maybe, wanna…”

“Go with you?” Niall finishes.

Zayn nods hesitantly. “If you’re interested, it’s a bit of a strange show so I get if you don’t want to–“

“I definitely want to.” Niall says, with some added urgency. “Yeah, it sounds awesome.”

“O-okay, that’s… cool, okay.” Zayn mumbles, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket until Niall walks away to get ready.

Louis bites back a smirk to avoid an elbow in the ribs from Zayn and follows him inside, eyes following the direction where Niall has disappeared.

“What’ll we have for dinner then?” he hears Liam ask.

He finds him standing in the kitchen facing Niall with rubber gloves on, and Harry is off to the side leaning against the counter smirking. His hair is up in a bun, which, if anything, is only making him look more baby-faced than he already is.

“I’ve obviously prepared for a situation such as this,” Niall says and opens the freezer, pulling out a couple containers. “Calzones good?”

Louis nods eagerly, and Niall smiles as he preheats the oven.

By the time Niall and Zayn have left, their food is only half thawed and heating away in the oven, Harry is drying the dishes that Liam just washed and Louis is sitting at the breakfast bar listening to Liam talk about an online dating experience he had.

“–so yeah, I turn up at the café, totally expecting her to be someone else, which is fine you know? Because from our conversations, she was already so beautiful and I’m not a shallow asshole, but anyway, I turn up and there she is. And it’s like a movie quality kind of meeting right? We talk for hours and everything is going great but then she tells me she’s moving to travel through India for the next two years, so that was that. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet again…”

Louis nods along. “Of course that would happen to you of all people.”

“Hey, it was very heartbreaking!” Liam says, melodramatic.

Louis chuckles. “I’m sure. Why were you even Internet dating in the first place? Don’t you have people flocking at your feet as soon as you step outside?”

Liam snorts and shrugs his shoulders. “Got into it after watching _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty._ It’s not even really about internet dating, but whatever, best movie ever by the way.”

“Haven’t seen it.” Louis says.

“What?” Liam stares at him with pure horror plastered over his face. “Well, _that_ needs to change. Everyone must experience the cinematic perfection of Ben Stiller, inspirational quotes, travelling and Adam Scott with a beard. It’s great, you’ll love it. I’ll put it on when dinners ready.”

Harry finishes drying the dishes and heads into the pantry.

“Want a beer Liam?” He calls.

“Yes please!”

“Louis?” Harry adds unexpectedly.

“Ah– yeah, thanks.” Louis replies.

Harry comes out holding three bottles of beer between his fingers, he gives Louis his and sits on the seat next to him.

“So anyway,” Liam continues. “The moral of the story is you boys should try out Internet dating, you might find your soul mate.”

Louis snorts, and hears Harry snicker next to him.

“You believe that girl is your soul mate?” Harry asks, bringing the bottle up to his lips.

“I do.” Liam says, firmly.

“What if she never actually went to India? What if it was a lie?” Louis inquires.

“Exactly.” Harry agrees.

Liam pauses, frowning. “That attitude is why you’re both still single. True love is a wonderful thing.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. “True love is a _concept,_ Liam. Crafted by literary geniuses and– like, _Hollywood._ It’s just there to trick you into thinking there’s more to life than school, work and maggots eating your brain when you’re rotting in the ground alone.” He pauses at the baffled and slightly concerned eyes watching him, and quickly adds, “it’s sweet though, that you, y’know, think that way…”

There’s a beat of silence and then Liam clears his throat. “Right.”

His body tenses when he glances at Harry, but the boy is already looking away, and he tries to edge away from the flitter of anxiety at the back of his head. Luckily Liam gets their food ready, even adds a thrown together salad on the side, which Louis just snorts at because he knows it’s a massive waste putting any on his plate.

They take their food to the couch, Louis on one end, Harry on the other and Liam on his beanbag on the side. Louis decides that his calzone tastes like pure heaven, he’ll have to remember to praise Niall for it later. Liam puts on _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,_ and Louis shamelessly falls in love with it within the first ten minutes, despite Liam declaring that “ _this part is the best”_ every five seconds.

Something about it pulls at his chest, he isn’t sure if he’s just getting into it like a normal person, or if it’s because he sort of reminds him of himself. All of it hits a little too close to home, and makes him think about everything he’s lost because he didn’t have a fucking choice. It took everything from him. And he still doesn’t know where he’s headed.

Not to say he doesn’t enjoy what he’s doing now, his studies might be the only stable thing in his life. That, and Zayn. It’s just that everything else is broken and fragmented, bits and pieces trying to fit together and make some sense of it all. He wishes he could. But unlike in the movie, he doesn’t have any inspirational quotes to push him along and make it better, or someone there to tell him its okay even though he seems to fail over and over. He doesn’t want that person to be Zayn because Zayn has so much on his plate as it is, and Louis’ problems are his own. Zayn is smiling a lot lately and he’d really like it to stay that way. He just feels a little ill sometimes.

He snaps back to reality at the slightly muffled sound of Liam’s snoring barely thirty minutes in. Louis just smiles fondly and keeps his eyes on the screen, keeps all of his focus on the movie.

A volcano erupts in the movie, and sirens are going off throughout the small town, which startles Liam awake, and he yawns, stretching his arms like a tired puppy and wiping his eyes.

“I should go to bed,” Liam mumbles, the words sort of slurred together and he shifts to get to his feet. Louis starts to panic. Liam was a nice middle ground, the even surface between him and Harry. Now the asshole is leaving them alone _._ “Night boys.”

“You nana,” Harry jokes. “Night, man.”

“Night, Liam.” Louis says with a warm smile, hoping his pleading eyes are enough but Liam just smiles back and heads off upstairs to his room.

Louis suddenly can’t seem to concentrate on the movie. Before, it was just ‘ _watching a movie with his friend and weird sort-of-acquaintance’_ , now its just watching a movie with Harry, who has been oddly not unpleasant to him tonight. And that, if anything, is just so unbelievably strange and far, far too familiar to be comfortable.

Harry picks up the empty beer bottle next to Louis’ feet and stands up and grabs Louis’ as well. “Want another?”

His heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“There’s ice cream as well, if you want to come look.” Harry says, and Louis gets up and follows behind him into the kitchen, Harry opens the freezer and points at the one in the gold ice cream container shoved down the back.

“This one is off limits, it’s Niall’s and he’s a bit of a freak about sharing it,” he says with an eyeroll. “Liam had some once, Ni got unreasonably pissy about it.”

“Really? Can’t imagine Niall like that.”

Harry chuckles. “You’ll see it eventually, Niall without his morning coffee, for example, is a fright.”

Louis grins. “Like Zayn, then.”

Harry smiles, and then he glances away awkwardly and clears his throat. “And um, there’s my vegan stuff if you’re into that and Liam’s vanilla.”

Louis screws his nose up at the vanilla. “Boring. Guess I’ll try yours, though it is a bit offensive to the real stuff calling it ice cream.”

Harry shakes his head, grabbing it out of the freezer. “Don’t knock it till you try it.” He grabs two bowls and the ice cream scoop and opens the lid.

“So what’s this made of then?” Louis asks, leaning on the countertop, admittedly closer to Harry than he had intended. “And what are those things,” he points at the dark brown pieces throughout. “I thought vegan things weren’t meant to have chocolate.”

“Its just cacao.”

“Oh, so its _really_ no fun, then.”

Harry sighs, biting back a smirk on his face. “And its coconut flavoured.”

Louis purses his lips. “Mmhm. And are you vegan by choice because you hate yourself or is it a health thing?”

“I’m not _fully_ vegan. Just like, try to be most of the time because of… reasons… do you want me to make you watch _Cowspiracy_?”

“Is that some weird vegan cult thing?”

Harry chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Never mind. Here,” he gives him his bowl and they go back to the couch.

He thinks they might be sitting closer than earlier, because Harry has his legs crossed and his knee is touching Louis’ thigh, and if Louis really wanted to, he’d be able to see Harry’s abs through the gaping hole he left unbuttoned in his shirt.

He’s not looking though. He’s watching the movie. Really. His entire attention is solely on the movie, and he’s feeling flushed from the small collection of beer bottles he’s emptied which are now coursing through his body, buzzing from having a normal conversation with Harry, and terrified all at once.

“So?” he hears Harry say.

He turns to face him. “Hm?” he says to the expectant looking boy at his side.

“Do you like it?”

Louis clicks. “Oh! Um– yes, I do. You were right, shocking as it is.”

Harry beams triumphantly and looks back at the screen. The small quirk of his lip leaves Louis staring entranced for a brief moment, before he snaps out of it, and focuses on his ice cream.

By the time his bowl is empty, the movie is nearing the end, so he gets up and puts his bowl in the sink, and then steps into the pantry to grab another beer, because fuck, he needs it.

It’s a lot bigger in here than it seems, like almost another room altogether, though only half lit by a weak light bulb Louis can see that it’s full of baking ingredients and things he can’t even identify, which is really cementing his theory that Niall is hiding someone’s grandma in the basement.

He spots the box of beer on the top shelf and reaches up, his short arms only barely scraping the edge of the box and he helplessly drops them back at his sides with a sigh.

“Oh my god, you’re tiny.”

He whirls around at the voice to see Harry leaning against the doorway of the pantry, a relaxed grin on his face, hair pulled out of it’s bun and falling in messy waves on his shoulders.

Louis exhales a soft groan. “Well… are you going to help or what?”

Harry breathes long and slow as if its such a hard decision, and then steps towards Louis, stopping close enough to feel his breath, close enough for the fabric of his shirt to brush against Louis’ as he’s backed up against the wall. And then he reaches over him and grabs the beer from the top shelf, in an easy stretch of long lean limbs.

Whoa.

Harry holds the bottle in his hand, and he’s close, gazing at Louis, his eyes doing an open scan of his body, almost deliberately taking his time to meet his gaze again. Louis feels his heartbeat quicken, breath still trapped in his lungs. It’s like he’s been dehydrated all evening, like he’s been yearning for this, and now Harry is looking at him with his feline-like eyes filled with something verging on desire and its like getting all of him at once, its overwhelming, and its making him feel lightheaded.

And just like that, Louis’ eyes make a slow and steady trail down his face and lock onto Harrys lips. He feels unsteady.

 _Jesus,_ he wants to kiss him.

Holy fuck. Shit.

They’re standing in the pantry completely frozen in time, there are fucking baking ingredients all around them and Liam is snoring in the other room and Harry is gazing at him, so tall, so familiar, and Louis wants to kiss him. But God, he can’t ever let that happen. No way.

He can already feel Harry’s hot breath on him, harsh and heavy, and Louis finds himself almost not wanting Harry to touch him in case he’ll feel how fast his pulse is racing. Because of _him._ He can’t even begin to comprehend how that boy is making him feel like this, like he’s not at all in control of his actions, his impulses, because every inch of his skin is itching to touch Harry, and he thinks Harry is feeling the same.

Harry sets the bottle on the shelf behind him without breaking eye contact, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and Louis’ stomach curls warmly, he can feel it spread through his body in a tingling wave. His hands are moving before his brain has a chance to catch up and he grips onto the hem of Harrys shirt, and pulls him closer, the corner of Harry’s mouth quirks, his hands meet Louis’ shoulders, pushing Louis back harder, and his body further against him, his hips pressing forward, moving into him.

They’re both breathing rapidly, and Louis bucks forward, meeting Harry as he rolls his hips against him again, he can feel how hard Harry is in his jeans, especially with their bodies crushed together like this. Harrys breath is against his ear, his lips just brushing against the skin beneath his jaw, it’s causing every inch of him to actually _ache_ for his touch, even though he’s already all over him. He just wants more, and Harry complies, pressing into him again, his mouth in his neck as he sinks his teeth into him.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Louis gasps, breathing rapidly, clutching at Harrys waist as the boy grows more and more rigid, his mouth hot against his neck, painful almost, but fucking incredible.

Louis is fully hard now, and there’s no point in battling it anymore. His hands slide down to Harry’s hips, his thoughts reduced to nothing but the blazing, inexplicable heat coursing through his veins, and Harry thrusts against him again, heat radiating off of his skin and sinking into Louis’. His chest is heaving as he pulls Harry impossibly close, rubbing against him, he’s got a hand on the nape of Louis’ neck – _fuck._

Impatient, and clearly not thinking, Louis hastily starts to unbutton Harry’s jeans, fingers tingling as Harry’s mouth drags over him like electric shocks.

And then –

Headlights shine through the kitchen, casting onto the dark of the pantry, and Louis pushes Harry off of him abruptly. He looks alarmed and confused for a moment but then the sound of a car door closing gets his attention, and his eyes widen.

“Shit –– fuck,” Louis mutters and hurries out of the pantry, Harry following behind, he can feel his eyes on him, straight down to the throbbing between his legs.

They both leap over the back of the couch, and Louis swears he’s never moved faster in his life, just as the door opens and the room is met with cheerful chatter.

“Oh hey! You’re back,” Harry says with forced enthusiasm, looking behind him towards the door, there’s a rough break in his voice that sends a rush of goosebumps all over Louis’ skin. “How was it?”

“Wicked. Eye-opening. Incredible.” Niall says, taking his coat off and hanging it up. “Zayn even treated me to dinner, as a reward for actually enjoying my first art exhibition,”

Louis glances at Zayn shuffling awkwardly beside Niall, kicking off his boots. “I never got dinner for my first exhibition,” he says, his tone a mixture of fake upset and amusement.

Zayn glares at him, but his smile is warm. “He said enjoying, not enduring.”

Louis grins and shrugs, hoping that that masks his flushed cheeks and erratic breathing. He can’t believe he was going to fuck Harry in the pantry while Niall’s jar of homemade cookies watches on, Jesus _Christ._

Niall and Zayn squeeze onto the couch in between them. “Just you two up?”

Louis quickly risks a glance at Harry and nods. “Yeah, Liam kept falling asleep so… I was just going to head back after the movie.”

Zayn glances quizzically at the screen, and Louis realizes the credits have almost finished rolling. Which he’s actually rather upset about because he wanted to see the ending. Bloody Harry.

He’s ready to formulate some masterful lie when Niall starts talking, “Zayn was going to stay for a drink if you guys are keen?”

“I um– I might head off to bed actually.” Harry says with a rehearsed yawn before Louis can speak.

Louis clears his throat. “Yeah me too.” He says hastily. He has very important business to take care of.

“Oh, okay.” Niall says as Louis stands up in sync with Harry. “See you tomorrow, Louis.”

Louis clears his throat. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” He smiles down at Zayn and then heads out the door, not looking back at Harry or saying a another word.

The hot and heavy night spent with his own bed sheets sends his mind reeling, it’s all Harry, he just _wants_ him, it’s fucking insane is what it is. There’s a photograph he keeps locked away in his box of miscellaneous junk at the top of his wardrobe, and it’s from Louis’ seventeenth birthday. He’s thinking about it when he washes his hands and he doesn’t even know why, or why he still kept it after all these years.

It makes him feel ill. He doesn’t even know why anymore but God, he swears he’ll get over this soon.

. . .

Louis is barely mid-way through his shift at the library when he’s longing to be back in his bed.

It’s a cold morning, too fucking cold, frost is creeping onto the edges of the grand windows, the old wooden walls do nothing to keep the it out. Louis is sort of grateful for it though because it gave him an excuse to wear the scarf currently wrapped around his neck, hiding the purplish marks Harry left on him last night. Louis should have known nothing good could come from being so close to him, he has physical evidence now, at least.

The building is practically empty this time of morning, because it’s too cold, too early, and there’s no way anyone who attends this university gives two fucks about books when those two things factor into it.

He’s sitting at the counter, going over notes for his assignment with Harry so that he’s ready for their next study session. He has his feet propped up on the chair where Zayn usually sits, but is instead still tucked away in bed, head throbbing and a small ball of rage if Louis had woken him up.

A loud slam echoes in his head as a book drops onto the counter abruptly.

“Jesus–– _fuck_ ,” he jumps, his alarmed eyes meeting Harrys grinning face. Louis wants to punch him. He really, really does.

“Finished it.” Harry says, and Louis looks down at his copy of _Bad Feminist._

Louis slides it over to himself. “I am your neighbour you know, you didn’t have to come all the way over here to give that to me,”

Harry shrugs. “Figured you didn’t want Zayn to know we actually share an interest. Besides, this is a library, I like to read, I’m _allowed_ to be here.”

Louis sighs. “Alright then, go for your life, Curly,”

Harry gazes around the library for a moment, before meeting Louis’ eyes again. “It’s not very busy in here is it?”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Uh. It’s, like, eight in the morning, this is a campus library. Students, early mornings, libraries, cold weather, are you getting it?”

Harry smirks. “You get grumpy when you’re hung-over don’t you?”

“I am not grumpy.”

“I think you are, and you’re tired, you’re like a tired kitten,” Harry says and pokes Louis’ nose probably in an attempt to see Louis scrunch his face up.

“Hey fuck off, I am not,” Louis says, swatting Harry’s hand away.

Harry giggles. “Oh you so are, that is adorable,”

Louis rolls his eyes, a strange spark in his chest, but he can do this. This is just playful teasing between sort-of-friends who happen to get each other off sometimes. He can pretend it’s fine, he’s really good at pretending.

He glances at the massive opening in Harrys flannel shirt where he left unbuttoned. “How are you dressed like that, it’s freezing,”

Awesome. Bring up his bare chest.

Harry raises his eyebrows and leans forward, elbows resting on the counter top. “Am I distracting you?”

Louis scoffs. “Oh please, don’t flatter yourself.”

“It’s okay, really. Look all you want,” he winks, Louis gags.

“I’m good, thanks.” He definitely doesn’t look.

“So,” Harry draws circles with his finger on the desk, “we got cut short last night,”

Louis chews at his lip. “Maybe that was for the best. We,” he gestures between himself and Harry, “need restrictions,”

“Is that your kink?”

Louis glowers. “We could have gotten caught, and that is _not_ happening. I won’t be making this more than what it is.”

Harry’s mouth forms a hard line, but there’s still a hint of obnoxious amusement in his eyes. “And what is it exactly?”

“It’s nothing.” He states plainly.

Harry runs a hand along one of the penholders absentmindedly. “Good, we’ve established that. So why are you taking it so seriously, then?”

“I––I’m not,” he stutters, and Harrys smirk grows. He straightens up, allowing his voice to sound more confident. “I’m not. I just think we should be more careful.”

Harry bites down on his bottom lip, a flash of white in the usually red skin, his half-lidded gaze burning into Louis. “Did you wank when you got home last night?”

Louis’ chest freezes, his neck prickling with heat. “What makes you ask that?” he asks, casual as ever. His mind reeling through blazing heat and groaning helplessly into his pillow.

“I know I had you riled up,” Harry says, his voice deep, eyes brimming with intent.

Louis swallows. “You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Harry shrugs, agreeing. “We could pick it back up?”

Louis’ mouth falls wide open. “When? I mean–– fuck, what? No.”

“Now.” Harry answers, his eyes not straying from Louis’. He looks serious. He actually looks serious.

“Uh, I’m working?” Louis says, like it’s not already completely obvious or anything.

Harry just shrugs it off. “I’ll get under the counter, no one will see.”

Louis actually finds himself scanning the area they have. Okay, so it’s a big counter he’s sitting behind, there’s enough space for Harry to easily fit underneath and there’s no way anyone could see that far down anyway, not to mention the chances of anyone actually coming in are low and –– wait. What is he doing?

Louis shakes his head. “You are insane. Really. From the conversation we _just_ had, what makes you think this is a good idea? I mean, I know you’re dense but this is surprising, even to me,”

Harry, however, does not look discouraged in the slightest. “Well, I know a lot of people that would consider it to be very adventurous,”

“We are not having sex in the library.”

“Well, I wasn’t meaning _sex,_ you’ll get me on my knees for sure––“

“Are you crazy? Someone could see! I could get fired–“

“What was that thing you just said? Something about the cold and students and mornings…“ Harry settles his half-lidded gaze on Louis, lathering the words heavily in his silky voice, coming out more sensual than they really should.

“You are a lot more perceptive than you look.” Louis says flatly.

Harry beams. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,”

Louis exhales, looking at him contemplatively. He is completely unaffected, honestly, _completely_ unaffected by the green eyes staring back at him expectantly, the sliver of golden pec’s that are shifting slightly when Harry rests on his elbows, rising and falling in time with his breathing, slowly, but heavy, and the long, slender fingers tapping on the countertop impatiently.

He is completely unaffected.

By… all of that.

Fuck.

“Be quick about it, yeah?”

Harry grins triumphantly, looking pleased with himself and he walks around to the opening behind Louis.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to get you going?” He hears Harry say.

“What do you–?”

Within a fraction of a second, Harry swings his legs over Louis’ thighs, straddling his lap with his hands on his shoulders; a sharp gasp escapes Louis’ lips.

“Harry. What are you doing?” Louis asks lowly, unable to put much force behind his words when his eyes lock onto Harry’s, alarmed by how close they are, only centimeters separating their mouths. And then Harry starts moving on his lap in slow circles, their groins rubbing together slowly and softly through their jeans.

“A-are you actually giving me a lap dance?” Louis manages when the words finally make it out of his throat, looking at Harry in disbelief. Well, as much as he can manage. His breathing is growing erratic, heavier the more Harry moves the lower half of his body in small circles on Louis’ lap, his smirking lips close –– so fucking close, hot, panting breath hitting his own mouth.

Harry’s gaze slides over Louis’ face, painfully slow. “Is it good?” he asks in a low, raspy voice. Louis is lost for words, nothing coming out but a choked whimper. Harry dips his head back a little and closes his eyes as he grinds onto Louis, a hand sliding to the back of Louis’ neck. Louis arches his hips forward, his hands slipping under Harry’s shirt to clench onto his hips, and Harry lets out a whimpered moan, rotating his hips more in Louis’ grasp.

Harry opens his eyes, bleary and unfocused and then a smirk stretches across his panting mouth again. He wiggles his eyebrows at Louis, eye’s darting down to his stiff groin. “I think it is,” he says, biting his lip.

He grinds deeply while Louis grips onto his hot skin, and Harrys hands are suddenly playing with the scarf around Louis’ neck.

“Was’ this?” he breathes, a deep rasp to his voice that somehow only makes Louis harder.

“You fucking dick––“ he arches his hips upwards again to meet Harrys, a sharp gasp escaping his lips, “you know what it is,”

Harry loosens the scarf, his mouth twisting into a smirk as he examines the love bites that are marked onto Louis’ skin. “Did it hurt?”

Louis watches him, heavy lidded, his hands softly sliding over Harry’s skin. “Did you want it to?”

Harrys dimples flash devilishly, and he shrugs, then sits back off of his lap and slides down to his knees effortlessly. He gets to work on Louis’ jeans, opening them and slipping his pants down just enough to get his hands on Louis’ already rock hard cock, working it between his long fingers which –– if Louis were to like anything about him, it would be those fucking fingers –– he sticks three fingers into his mouth, moaning a little as he pulls them out slick with saliva and jerks him off again.

Louis finds his hand twisting in Harry’s hair, heat already pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck –– Harry, fucking _do_ it–“

“Were you never taught how to be patient, Lou?” Harry mumbles, grinning up at him.

“No, I fucking wasn’t––“ he’s cut off when Harry’s mouth takes him in.

A soft groan escapes Louis’ throat, feeling the roof of Harrys mouth on the tip, his fingers still teasingly stroking the base of Louis’ cock, and waves of unbelievable pleasure surges through him. His mouth gapes as Harry works down deeper, gradually taking more in, his head bobbing on and off his length, eyes fixed on Louis with a small look of concentration as he does so.

Louis wants to lean his head back, close his eyes and just let this happen, let all of his moans come out as loud as they need to be and not fucking worry about wherever he is –– he doesn’t even fucking register where he is. Just Harry. Harrys mouth working over him, his delighted and heavy eyes, his slick fingers stroking the end where his throat won’t reach.

Louis is so desperately trying to hold back his moans, but his entire body is throbbing and on fire and so _nearly there––_

The sound of the door opening painfully brings Louis back to earth.

His chest seizes, an alarm goes off in his head and suddenly he can’t breathe for _very_ different reasons.

A girl is walking into the library.

A girl is walking into the library and Harry has his mouth on Louis’s cock and Louis was about to come, he still fucking might. He kicks at Harry, who momentarily freezes around his throbbing cock, pulling off with a slick noise and Louis doesn’t even have to look at him to know that he’s grinning.

Harry’s hand is still–– it’s still working him, Louis has to bite down on his lip, pulling himself further up to the desk to hide his lower half as the girl approaches. He kicks at Harry again, misses.

“He–ey! What can I do for you?” he says with an uncomfortably polite smile.

“I was wondering if you could renew this book for me?” She says, holding up a textbook.

A weird noise escapes Louis’ throat that he tries to muffle with his hand and he makes another unsuccessful attempt to kick Harry again. He swallows, trying to fight the stupid grin working its way across his face.

“Yeah, sure thing, A-ah! I’ll need your card – mm,”

The girl slides her ID card across, a thin line of confusion forming between her eyebrows.

Louis takes it with trembling fingers. “Wont be a second,”

After ten excruciating seconds, he renews the girls book, biting hard on his lip and forcing himself not to close his eyes as the heat pooling in his stomach starts to feel like too much.

“Here you go,” he forces, sliding the card back.

“Thank you…” she says oddly and gets out as fast as she can.

Louis comes the instant she leaves, and Harry licks it up happily before Louis pulls back and kicks him in the side for real.

Harry breaks out into hysterical laughter, and lies on his back as his body shudders. Louis zips up his jeans, glaring down at him; the effect is probably ruined by the smirk on his face that he can’t seem to get rid of. Harry’s lips are red, and wet, his chest expanding with his heavy breaths. Jesus – _fuck_.

Louis locks his jaw, hoping his glare will burn a hole through Harry’s chest, but the boy is just shuddering against the ground, goofy laughter bursting out of him. He looks more like a child than someone who just sucked his cock. Honestly, what the hell is Harry Styles? How is he still so much the person that Louis once knew? He wishes he would stop squirming, irritating little shit.

It takes Louis seconds to drop down, position his legs on either side of Harry’s waist and straddle him, holding back his wrists to stop his hands from clutching at his stomach as he laughs. His laughter has been reduced to soft chuckles now and he’s grinning up at Louis, who is trying his best to scowl.

“Are you happy with yourself?”

Harry smiles innocently, licking his lips. “Very. This is the best day of my life.”

“Sad life.” Louis glowers, catching something electric in Harry’s eyes.

Harry’s chest is heaving. “Very.” He says softly, his voice gruff and slow.

That damn voice. Louis wishes it wouldn’t cause his eyes to drag down to his mouth. Harry’s lips are parted slightly, plush and red from the morning’s activities; he’s not smirking anymore, teeth biting down slightly on the corner of his bottom lip…

Louis loosens his grip on Harry’s wrists, sitting back on his lap; Harry’s mouth turns into a small, satisfied smirk and he props himself up on his elbows.

Louis shakes his head. “I am thrilled you found that so amusing,” he says, standing up and getting back onto his seat.

Harry sits up, still giggling. “Oh come on,” he puts a hand on Louis’ knee. “You wanted to laugh too, did you hear her? She thought you were mental.”

Louis snickers. “Fuck, alright,”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Whoa. Are you warming up to me, Lou?”

Louis snorts and hits his hand away. “Piss off.”

Harry stands up, looking like he won the lottery. “Have fun without me,”

“That wont be easy, please, don’t go,” Louis says in a dead voice.

Harry walks back to the other side of the counter and winks at him as he saunters past him.

“See you in a few, _lover_ ,” he calls behind him as he leaves.

Louis just groans in response.

. . .

Zayn looks at his phone. 11:00. Which isn’t surprising considering how late he got in.

He still groans, slapping his palm to his forehead and shifting on his pillow, the remnants of talking way too much last night flashing in his thoughts. His head is still running over fragments of a dream though, he was in his house back home, but it was also this house, and he wandered through a weird labyrinth of twisted memories and forgotten faces. It left him feeling sort of bittersweet though he doesn’t know why, so he gets up and showers, brushes his teeth and heads into the kitchen to boil the kettle.

He leans on the windowsill while he waits, peering out of the window, his gaze falling on movement in his neighbours house and a flash of blond hair.

It’s Niall, doing his dishes. For a moment, Zayn gets kind of lost in the stare. Niall looks sort of beautiful, the sunlight hitting his skin, in his “dude who watches too much sports and thinks he’s always at the beach” muscle tank with his soft hair sweeping above his face. It’s getting a lot darker at the roots, Zayn wonders if Niall would ever grow it out.

His face goes cold when he realizes Niall is looking back, his face breaking out into a smile and waving. Zayn lifts his hand and waves back quickly before dealing to his morning coffee.

He takes it and a sketchbook out to the backyard and sits down on one of the lawn chairs, bathed in the sun, the sound of a few dogs barking in the massive park behind the houses.

“No classes today?”

He looks up from his sketchbook to the sound of Nialls voice. He’s standing in the backyard next door by their thriving garden with a watering can in his hand, letting it rain over the plants.

Zayn shakes his head. “Feeling a bit under the weather,”

Niall smiles down at the plants. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you skipping class too?”

“Nope, nothing on for me today,”

“Gardening day then?”

Niall nods. “Harry never remembers or bothers to water the garden, he just likes the finished product,”

Zayn chuckles. “He’s actually a lot like Louis, funny that.”

Niall looks up and smiles. “I think you’re onto something there, Zayn,” he says, setting the watering can down and wandering back inside.

. . .

Harry is drawing on his hand when Louis gets to him under the tree. He’s lying on his stomach, jeans rolled up at the ankles and barefooted, a few books resting beside him. Louis wonders how long he’s been there, by the flower crown made out of a daisy chain resting on his head.

He’s really sort of something, isn’t he? Lying on the soft grass, orange and red leaves burnt from the past summer falling down around him, swirling and spiralling in the slight breeze, and Harry, with his ever so exposed chest and skin tight jeans, flowers in his hair… he’d be sort of poetic and beautiful if Louis didn’t already have everything else engraved into his skull.

His doodles become clearer the closer Louis gets. Spaceships and planets, whole galaxies of them all over his already inked up skin, shooting stars bursting over the cross tattoo by his knuckles, he’s got his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. He looks like a child.

Louis doesn’t let his eyes linger on Harry’s arms for much longer, he drops his bag down and sits cross-legged on the grass next to him.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the wind, the sun, and Louis’ incessant thoughts. An odd silence, really.

“Do you think you’d like to live on the moon?” Harry asks into the breeze, continuing to draw on his skin. “Or any other planet, really. Not Mars though, m’ not a fan of Mars.”

Louis looks at him, slightly puzzled. “Dying wouldn’t be much fun.” Harry meets his eyes now, confused, so Louis continues, ”Like, the whole needing to breathe thing might be a struggle.”

Harry nods, looking deep in thought, as if this is a possible thing that could happen. “Yeah, but give it a good fifty years, we’ll have worked some way around that by then.”

Louis shrugs, playing with the grass next to him. “S’pose so. So we’ll be in our seventies and headed to space then? Is that the plan? Because I was planning on dropping off when I hit sixty,”

The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s mouth. “S’ a shame. Liam and Niall don’t want to go with me,” he shrugs happily, eyes darting back down to the pen moving across his hand, “they’ll miss home or something stupid.”

Louis swallows. “Well, if I’m still around and haven’t killed you in an epic blood bath, I might join you. Not sure if my old body will take it though,” there’s an odd playful edge to his voice and he doesn’t really know what they’re talking about anymore.

Harrys quiet for a moment, even pauses drawing a ring around Saturn. “The moon would be a nice place to die,” he says quietly, his voice smaller than what Louis’ used to. He feels short of breath.

“Do you know something I don’t? Should I be readying myself for space travel?” Louis asks, trying to lighten the mood and certainly suspicious as to where all of this talk is coming from.

Harry lifts his head again and laughs this time. “I wish. Imagine how great that would be,” his eyes are dreamy and sparkling, “ _space_ , right?”

Louis nods, smiling, this is weird but he still smiles. “Space.”

There’s a moment where this all feels normal, it feels _easy_. It’s elusive and fleeting, just a flicker of faded light in the distance, but its there, shooting up his spine, hurting his chest. And then reality slices through, cutting into his strange thoughts and burning them down.

Shit, man.

He stops holding Harrys gaze when his phone vibrates, and Harry’s eyes drop down to where Louis is fumbling to get it out of his pocket.

It’s just a text from Greg, they’ve been texting since Harry left the library this morning oddly enough, nothing major, he’s just asking Louis’ opinions on the latest _Spiderman_ reboot.

_Louis: ehhhhhhhh._

_Greg: Right? My thoughts exactly._

Louis smiles and pockets his phone.

Harry’s attention is now on his book, he seems to be focusing extremely hard on it. “Should we start on the presentation?”

Louis nods and reaches for his bag.

. . .

“I can’t do anymore. I’m _hungry._ ” Harry whines from his curled over position on the grass.

Louis stares at him blankly. “You’re actually twelve years old aren’t you? Just an abnormally large twelve year old and everything we’ve been doing is now incredibly inappropriate, shit.”

Harry doesn’t even seem to register him, just dramatically clutches his stomach like the absolute child that he is. “I’m going waste away, Lou,” he drawls, “Who will raise Niall and Liam?”

Louis snorts, but gets to his feet anyway, pulling up the lazy twelve year old moron that is Harry Styles. “Lets go feed you before you _waste away.”_

Harry smiles triumphantly and walks alongside him through campus, daisies still in his hair, Louis somehow cons him into carrying his books since he’s the first one to complain after barely an hour of studying.

Turns out the closest food place by campus is some hipster restaurant. Harry claims to visit regularly but he still takes fucking forever to choose his food.

“Harry, oh my god. Just get your salad with a side of salad already, we all know that’s what you’ll end up choosing.” Louis grumbles.

Harry purses his lips, focusing intently on the options before him while the ever so patient curly haired girl waits for his order on the other side. “I like to experiment,” is all he says, his voice delicate.

Louis lets out a low-key exaggerated sigh as the employee offers to give them a few minutes, and he steps in closer to Harrys space. “Is there even much for you to choose from? You’re vegan right?”

Harry looks sideways at him. “Not vegan. _Mostly_ vegan.” Harry explains, “I had some health issues a couple years back, iron deficiency, made me pass out a lot and get really bad headaches. I didn’t really like eating meat so they put me on this super healthy eating program, have to take lots of vitamins and shit, I guess I sort of started to like it? I don’t know,”

“Oh.” Louis doesn’t know what else to say.

“Besides, a chicken wrap is like, _painfully_ boring.” Harry adds.

There’s a smirk in his words again and Louis feels his chest tighten. “Hey, it’s the only thing I recognized in this up-cycled shack. I don’t know what quinoa is but good lord get it away from me,”

Harry’s face lights up. “That’s what I’ll have!”

Louis rolls his eyes, which is a given.

Once they’ve both ordered, they sit down in a booth facing onto an overgrown garden next to the restaurant. Louis idly taps his fingers on the bench while they wait, and then moves onto gently poking a small cactus plant on their table with his fork.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Harry says, shooing his hand away. “It’s a living organism, Lou. Would you like it if I poked you with my–“ he stops when he sees the smirk on Louis’ face and just shakes his head. “You’re an idiot. And your phones been going off for the past two minutes.”

Louis glances down at his phone on the table next to him, the unread texts flashing on the screen.

_Greg: Do you like movies? We should see a movie._

Louis feels cold wash over him. No, he doesn’t do dates. That sounds like a date.

“Is he asking you to perform illicit sexual acts?” Harry asks, obviously reading his face.

Louis forces a snort. “I wish.” And yeah, he almost does. That’d be better than this. “I think he um. I think he asked me out?”

He instantly regrets it as soon as the words come out, is he seriously talking about this with Harry? Of course he is. Of fucking course. Harry is grinning though, and he leans forward and snatches up Louis’ phone.

“Ooh, you’ve been a proper flirt haven’t you?” he says, scrolling through the texts. Louis actually finds himself not minding so much, it’s not like he’s been the one leading the conversations or anything.

Still, he blushes. “I have not.”

Harry snorts. “No, you really haven’t. Just heavily expressed your dislike for coffee.”

“It’s stupid and bitter.”

“Mhm.” Harry smirks, eyes still down on the screen. “Sounds like a date. Vague one, that Greg,” he says, handing back the phone.

“What do I say?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You raise a good point.” Louis says.

“What’s the issue anyway? You don’t exactly look thrilled.”

Louis narrows his eyes, the words catching in his throat and he just shrugs, uncertainty creeping up his spine.

“Ah, right. Your whole _love is a lie and everyone dies in the end_ thing,” Harry says, swaying his head with the words.

“Something like that.” Louis says noncommittally. Their eyes lock momentarily, before Harry looks away, towards the waitress bringing their food.

“Is that what quinoa is?” Louis asks, after a few minutes of just eating and the acoustic music softly flooding the restaurant. He’s gazing down at Harrys half eaten plate, and Harry is looking back at him with an amused expression.

“Want to try some?” Harry asks brightly. “It’s really good.”

Louis focuses his eyes on the odd salad on Harry’s plate, it doesn’t look appetizing, and his body might not react well to eating something _that_ healthy. Maybe that was Harry’s intention. Yes. The boy is definitely out to kill him.

Harry doesn’t wait for an answer though, just scoops some up on his fork and holds it out for Louis. Before Louis knows what he’s doing, he’s leaning forward and– hm, it is quite nice.

Shit. _Shit_. Did he just let Harry feed him?

He sits back down hastily, his pulse racing as his eyes drop to Harry’s almost gaping mouth. Everything freezes for a moment, and then proceeds to speed up in double-time. Harry drops his arm as quickly as it happened, continues eating quietly, and everything feels tense as Louis picks at his own food, and whether or not that was a contributing factor, he turns to his phone.

_Louis: Depends. What are we seeing?_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_Greg: There’s the new superman movie out…_

Louis scrunches up his nose, distaste settling in his gut.

“What is it?” Harry asks, looking at him again.

“He wants to see Superman,” Louis says, his voice a half-groan.

Harry face turns a mix of mock-disgust and amusement. “How dare he? Any well respecting man knows you’re a Marvel guy.”

“Exactly!” Louis sighs. “Guess I’ll suffer through it.”

Harry simply half-smiles down at his plate, and Louis feels the weight of all of his coherent thoughts suddenly seeming easily dismissive, and he keeps looking, testing how long he can until Harry will notice. Turns out, not very long, because Harry is looking back at him barely five seconds later, holding his gaze, Louis almost, _almost_ entertains the possibility of leaning over and kissing him–

His buzzing phone jolts them out of it. That was completely casual.

_Greg: or the new Captain America if you like?_

Louis exhales a not-so-steady breath.

_Louis: that’s more like it._

“Are you going home? I could give you a lift?” Harry asks, an uncertain edge to his voice.

Louis would really like to go home and do whatever it was that Harry wanted to do, he can almost guarantee that it would be a nice stress reliever.

But life would be so cruel. “Can’t, got class in half an hour, and unlike Zayn, we can’t all just skip whenever we feel like it.”

Harry smiles wearily, and Louis is getting a little sick of his often changes in demeanour. “Right.”

Louis gets to his feet and Harry follows in suit, they walk together until they’re at the science department, and they both stop, sort of unsure about where to go from here. Its been a strange day, really, and any attempt Louis could possibly make now to keep Harry out of his life will surely fail like the others.

“Well,” Louis lets out sort of loudly, breaking through the silence. “This has been terrible,” Harry is grinning, Louis didn’t mean for that to sound like a joke. “Thank you for being my pack mule, I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that, he takes his books out of Harrys arms and turns on his heels, his professor starts off on a philosophical rant and Louis finds himself far, far away on the moon.

. . .

Zayn has spent an hour in his studio literally watching paint dry, and then had moved onto the couch to waste away a few hours with trashy daytime TV.

He’s walking into the lounge with a glass of orange juice in his hand, when he comes dangerously close to spilling it all over the floor at the sight of Niall out the window. He’s shirtless. His face a little pink and his lean chest glistening, the shifting muscles shining in the sun as he reaches up, one hand gripping the elbow of his other arm as he stretches. He must have just gone for a run.

Zayn watches as Niall then proceeds to lift his water bottle to his head and literally _in slow motion_ the water falls over his body like a scene from a bad teen movie where he’s the female lead and Niall is the unattainable jock, the water runs like a waterfall over his pecs and dampens his shorts before splashing onto the grass. _Fuck._

Zayn’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red even though no one is present to see his momentary infatuation–– which is all it is. He sits back on the couch and wills the bad acting on the screen to take his mind far, far away.

Niall disappears for a bit, probably because he’s showering _holy fuck–_ and Zayn decides to hang out the washing because Louis will not believe that he ignored the beep of the washing machine the entire day.

He’s hanging up a sheet when he notices the door to the neighbour’s house opening and closing. He leans over and peaks around the sheet to see Niall directly across from him, separated by a picket small fence, dropping a washing basket onto the grass and hanging his own clothes.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Zayn notices the very, very floral shirt in Niall’s hands, and as he clips it to the line he also notices how sheer the fabric is.

“That Harry’s?” he asks.

“Hey, it could be mine,”

“Is it?”

Niall chuckles. “I wish I were this confident in my masculinity, I’m getting there though, almost let Harry paint my nails the other day.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, nodding in approval. “Go with purple if you do, suits you.”

Niall gazes at Zayn for a moment as if to check if he’s actually serious, and smiles softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Zayn bites his lip awkwardly. “Besides, doesn’t have to be about masculinity. Harry wears what he likes, I respect that.”

Niall’s face softens. “I was kind of thinking you and Louis were on the same page about him,”

Zayn shrugs, focusing heavily on the t-shirt in his hands before he hangs it up. “I try not to get in the middle of that, they can deal with it themselves,”

“It’s weird, huh? Like, I feel like I still don’t really get it. Louis’ great and Harrys great but when they’re together its like completely different people.”

Zayn nods. “Don’t quite get it myself, all I know is when Louis knew Harry in high school, he was going through stuff with his ex so it was a weird time for him.” _Fuck, why is he still talking._

“Oh, okay. So maybe there is more to the story.” Niall shrugs, seeming disinterested in the topic. “Whatever. How are your paintings going?”

“They’re alright. Want to come see?” he asks, before his head can catch up.

“Yeah.” Niall steps around his half hung washing basket and jumps over the small fence separating the houses. “Yeah, definitely.”

Zayn leaves his basket too and wanders inside with Niall following behind him, they go upstairs to his room, the door is open and the two big windows are letting in a breeze as some form of ventilation. There’s bits of paper all over the floor covered in conceptual work, unwashed coffee cups littering his bench, stacks of canvases pushed against a wall and two large ones resting against the opposite wall, his most recent ones.

He shifts nervously while Niall steps in, eyes thoughtful and focused as he looks at the latest paintings, breathing slowly while Zayn’s is getting faster by the second just watching him. Even with the open windows letting in the noise from the street outside, Zayn doesn’t think his room has ever been this quiet.

After long moments, Niall steps back and looks at Zayn, his eyes are unreadable and Zayn can’t tell if that’s frustrating or endearing.

“What does Louis think of your art?” he asks.

Which… wasn’t exactly what he expected but okay.

“He likes it, he’s just not that interested in art and shit. Why?”

Niall looks back at the paintings, seeming deep in thought. “I just… I think you should hear everyday how wonderful and talented you are. Honestly Zayn, believe it or not but before I met you I didn’t really have much of an interest in art, and abstraction was just… I didn’t get it? But everything you do… if I had the money I would buy every single one.”

“That’s… that’s really nice, thank you.” Zayn says, grimacing at the fact that he’s never been good at accepting compliments.

Niall rubs the back of his head, sitting down on Zayn’s bed that’s shoved in the corner. “I’m sorry about… that first night we met, when I kept going on about where Harry and I had been, I wasn’t showing off or anything. I just– I wanted to talk to you and I don’t have a lot of good conversation starters.” He smiles nervously, but there’s a soft groan under his breath and he’s almost cringing at the memory.

Zayn chuckles softly and sinks down next to him, thanks to his piece of shit mattress he ends up sliding closer to Niall than he intended, but its alright. It’s good. He smells like strawberries, which reminds Zayn that he just showered.

He focuses on a bird perched in the tree out his window. “I’m sorry I was such an arsehole. I found it hard to believe that you were really just… you. No hidden agenda’s or anything. I– I don’t trust easily but you didn’t deserve that.”

He risks a glance at Niall, who is smiling softly and staring ahead, before he continues.

“And I do want to hear about your travels, I really do. I mean, come on, helping with a dig in Egypt? That must’ve been amazing.”

Niall’s countenance brightens and he turns to him, and it’s only then that Zayn realizes just how close they are, but he can’t bring himself to care. Or he does care, but only because he really doesn’t want him to move away.

“I could take you.” Niall says, a bashful smile sitting on his lips. “I mean, like if you wanted to. We could go anywhere, I know some good hostels and you could get one of those artist travel kits, we could do that if you… if you wanted to.”

Zayn can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Really?”

Niall nods, growing excited. “Definitely. Cheap flights are my forte, Harry and I made a lot off of busking so imagine how much your paintings would go for.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I think you think I’m better than I actually am.”

Niall shakes his head. “Nope.” He grins sheepishly. “We could maybe talk about it over drinks some time? Or coffee if you prefer, I know you like to paint more at night.”

Zayn purses his lips in an attempt to stop the stupid grin from spreading. “Drinks sound great, I’ve been told it’s not the healthiest habit staying up painting every night.”

Niall grins, eyes shining as he turns his head away. “Great, that’s um– that’s great. I’ll text you.”

And Zayn just smiles. He smiles too much around this boy, and its weird to fathom being so happy around someone who isn’t Louis.

“What’s all this?” Niall suddenly asks, waving his hand toward the pile of lose canvas and beveled wood.

“Oh, sorry it’s a bit of a mess, it’s just materials for canvases I need to make up.”

“You make your own?”

Zayn smiles. “Just like how you prefer to make your own pasta.”

Niall looks at him warmly. “Show me how?”

“Are you sure? Takes fucking forever, s’ why I haven’t done it yet. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” Zayn says, frowning in confusion.

Niall shrugs. “Neither is making pasta,”

Zayn doesn’t think about how that causes his chest to flood with warmth and he gets to his feet, the bed springs creaking beneath him and he carries the wood and rolls of canvas in his arms. “Follow me then,”

They go into the garage that is really only used for Zayn’s larger art projects and as a dumping ground for boxes of useless items. He lays everything out onto the workbench, arranging the wood into a large rectangle.

He shows Niall how to glue and staple the frame, and then tells him they have to wait an hour for it to dry, so Niall runs over next door to grab some refreshments– iced tea and strawberry tarts he just ‘whipped up’, and they sit cross legged on the floor listening to whatever old CD’s are in the stereo and talking for well over an hour.

By the time they stand up again, the glue on the canvas frame has well and truly dried and Zayn flattens out the large rectangle sheet of canvas, he takes the pliers in one hand and the staple gun in the other and gets to work. Niall finds that he quite enjoys making canvases; he’s got a knack for it too. When they’re done, he primes the canvas in a few coats of gesso and then follows Niall next door to help him get started on dinner.

Burgers. Niall is making burgers, and Zayn is thrilled. Something he might actually be helpful with.

“Okay, so,” Niall says, handing him a beer from the fridge. Zayn looks bewilderedly at the array of ingredients lined up on the kitchen counter. “This,” he waves his hand over a grouping of food. “is for Harry’s vege patties, we need to keep it separate from the rest, especially Liam’s as he prefers his oozing with blood and would eat a fucking live cow if the option was there.”

Zayn snickers. “Okay, what can I do?”

He gets Zayn started on chopping potatoes for the homemade chips while Niall does something with chickpeas for Harrys burger. It looks kind of gross, but whatever. Each to their own.

Zayn lets Niall do the actual cooking once the potatoes are done (which he apparently cut “too perfect”, and they were going for _rustic)_ and he proceeds with chopping cabbage for a coleslaw, and onions for onion rings, ignoring the dumb joke Niall makes when the onions make him cry. He doesn’t think about the laugh that may or may not have escaped his throat either.

He’s not thinking about a lot when it comes to Niall, it’s as wonderful as it is terrifying. Like how that warm burst of sunshine might be working its way into the very depths of his chest, and he’d like it to stay.

. . .

By the time Louis gets home, everyone else is already there, he waves to Zayn and Niall who are in the backyard using the barbecue and Liam, who is on the phone in the kitchen, but smiles at him anyway.

He then plops himself down on the couch next to Harry who has his head buried in some medical textbook, he stretches out his legs with an exaggerated sigh of relief and puts his feet up on Harry’s lap, snickering at the scowl that earns him, but he doesn’t push them off which is good because the added bonus to seeing Harry annoyed is that it is also quite comfortable.

He gets in five minutes of TV before Liam comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his neck. “Rough day at work hun?” he says, only enforcing Louis’ hunch that they are becoming some weird dysfunctional family.

“You have no idea.”

“Beer babe?” Liam asks.

“Yes please.”

Liam comes back a moment later with his drink and then disappears out into the backyard. Minutes tick by and Louis tries to focus on the TV but he could swear Harry’s pen moving across the page is getting louder by the second, he cant escape how unnerving it is that he hasn’t said a word since Louis got here. It’s usually difficult to shut him up.

“Hey,” Louis says in Harry’s direction, when he doesn’t reply Louis nudges him with his foot. “ _Hey_.”

“What? What do you want?” Harry asks, annoyed.

“You’re quiet.”

Harry sighs. “It’s called studying, should try it some time.”

Louis bites his tongue, frowning a little. He’s not– not entirely bothered by the odd cold shoulder from Harry, he knows their relationship is rocky at best, but he had sort of assumed they weren’t all the way back at stage one, because well, that was frustrating as hell. Confusing. Too much for his head sometimes.

Whatever.

The rest of the night goes just as smoothly, which isn’t very, and he’s just growing more frustrated with Harry’s frequent changes in demeanour. What is with him anyway? Jaw set stiffly all evening, eyes cold and vacant, following Louis with a death glare when he does actually acknowledge his existence. What the fuck?

It’s later on in the night when Louis catches Harry alone in the kitchen and pulls him out onto the back patio, the stars watching down on them. Louis would prefer it if they would go away, it’s too exposed out here. Harry is still glaring.

“Jesus, did I do something? _Aside_ from…” he shakes his head, “in the past 24 hours, did I do something terrible? Or are you just being a grump for the sake of it?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, a twitch between his eyebrows as he looks at him.

Louis scowls. “You’re looking at me like I murdered your family, and you’ve been oddly quiet,”

Harry meets his eyes with a slow blink. “Why does it matter?”

“Well, just, if you’re pissed at me I’d like to have an idea why,” Louis protests, bothered and confused and frustrated. It’s too much.

Harry sighs exasperatedly; trying to break eye contact but Louis won’t let him. “I’m… I’m not pissed with you.”

“I’m struggling to believe that.”

Harry sighs again, brokenly, his shoulders actually slump with it and he just looks… tired.

“I’m sorry.” Harry says quietly, and yeah, it sounds really genuine. Almost makes Louis’ chest hurt, he seems so small suddenly.

Louis levels him with a stare. No, this isn’t what he wanted. “You– you don’t have to say sorry, that’s not what I meant, you didn’t do anything wrong–“

Harry chuckles now. “Yeah. Guess my headspace is all weird tonight. Look, we’re fine. Dandy. As fine as we have been.”

Louis doesn’t know if he believes him, and frankly he finds it a bit insulting.

“I promise, Lou.” Harry adds, his voice more steady now, and that fills Louis with something warm and fleeting. Harry Styles and his promises, he never breaks them, if that’s one thing Louis knows for certain.

“Okay,” Louis says weakly, looking at Harry in the moonlight, under the prying eyes of the stars, he will not let them know what he’s feeling. “Okay, good.”

He expects some snarky comment to finish off this terribly unpleasant night, but all he gets is a smile. Harry leaves him with that as he wanders back inside, and Louis’ stare lingers, thoughts not quite rendering like they should.

He’s sick of this boy leaving him speechless.

. . .

“So hey,” Zayn says from behind Louis when they get back to their own flat, Louis turns to him, flicking on the lights. “Things are good with you and Harry now, yeah? You guys sorted that all out?”

Louis gazes at him, unsure, and Zayn adds, “Niall was just curious, and Liam. Said you two seemed friendlier towards each other lately,”

Louis squints at him. “You all talk about us when we’re not around?”

Zayn ignores that and continues to look at him earnestly.

Louis awkwardly shuffles towards the kitchen. “I guess? I don’t know. We don’t exactly discuss our _feelings_ ,” he jokingly turns his nose up at the word. “It’s just whatever. Its fine.”

“So everything… it’s all good now?” Zayn prods again.

Louis sighs to himself and nods, he isn’t sure if they’ll ever be _all good_ but to put Zayn at ease, “yeah.”

Zayn brightens a little. “Good.”

Yeah. Okay. Good.

. . .

Louis spends the next day catching up on some well-earned sleep, responsibilities and other issues can take some time off he decides.

He does head out with Zayn to run some errands, because errands are a thing that people have to do when they’re living on their own, and a thing that Louis routinely forgets to do until there’s next to nothing left in their kitchen. They return with a stocked up car, enough to last a couple of weeks if they’re good, and somewhere throughout the day Louis finds himself doodling in his notebook when his phone rings.

Cold sweeps over him, and he steps out onto the front porch to take it, like being inside is too suffocating. He fluidly lights a cigarette before he answers.

Here goes.

“Hi, mum.”

“ _Louis. How... how are you_?”

What an opener, Louis could snort, doesn’t really have it in him. “I’m good. And you?”

“ _I’m really well, yeah. Things are good_.” Her voice is tentative, and it almost feels strange to hear her like that.

Louis takes a drag from his cigarette. “It’s been a while, what’s happened?”

“ _Nothing has to happen for me to want to talk to my son_.”

Louis chuckles coldly. “But that’s it right? Just save us the pleasantries and tell me what it is,”

There’s a small gap of silence before she speaks again. “ _Louis, I am interested in what you’ve been up to. I don’t always have an agenda. There is another thing but that isn’t the sole reason I called_ ,”

There it is.

“Lets hear it.”

She lets out a long breath. “ _Okay, then. I’ve been seeing this guy, Mark_ ––“

“Lottie’s teacher, yes, she told me,” he interrupts.

More silence. “ _Yes. Him. It’s actually been going on for a lot longer than she knew about, and well, he’s proposed_.”

Louis freezes. The words drowning and dissipating in the silence around him.

No. _No._

“ _The wedding is next year, and I just… I want you to meet him_ ––“

“I have to go,” he says quickly.

“ _Louis, baby, please listen to me_ ,”

“I really don’t want to. Thanks for calling, mum, have a happy life with whatever-his-name-is, give the girls my love,”

" _It's my wedding. You're really gonna miss it?"_

Louis sighs. "I'll just go to the next one."

She doesn't say anything for a beat, and Louis hopes that was enough to get her to hang up. He knows he wouldn't be so lucky. 

“ _You’ll never find yourself someone if you’re always going to be like this_ ––“

Louis feels that shoot through him, straight into his chest, and it fucking hurts.

“I don’t need to _find myself someone._ I don’t need another person to make me happy, that’s the difference between me and you, mum.”

“ _I know you’re far away but that’s no excuse to talk to me like that. And I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t. If you still aren’t going to let yourself be happy then there’s nothing I can do for you, there’s nothing anyone can do. I wish you would just listen for once_ ––“

His blood boils, no, he won’t have this. “Congratulations on the engagement. I hope you two are really happy together.” His voice is flat and ends the call before he has to listen to any more.

He stands there, just breathing, for a while probably. He feels dizzy, and sick and his head is foggy and he can’t think, but he can, and it’s just her words swimming around in his head.

_There’s nothing anyone can do._

Why did she have to say that? He doesn’t want anyone to _do_ anything, he doesn’t need it, really, he doesn’t. That’s no reason for the knot in his stomach, the clawing at the back of his throat. He hates that it’s making him unable to think straight. He doesn’t want to crumble, not again.

He lights another cigarette, the sky is already dropping, and his breath is coming out in puffs of white and grey as he exhales a large puff of smoke, leaning on his forearms on the railing of the front porch.

“That’s really bad for you.”

He turns to see Harry leaning on his own railing, peering over at him, he’s wearing another one of those floral shirts and a hat that makes him look like a very eccentric farmer. Louis relaxes somewhat in his presence.

He takes another long swig and blows it in his general direction. Harry screws his face up. “Gross. I let that mouth touch me, fuck.”

Louis shrugs. “S’ not like I forced you.” And whatever, he doesn’t need to explain himself.

“You and Zayn coming over tonight?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

Harry shrugs. “Not usually big on the guys’ parties.”

Oh.

“Of course they’re throwing a party,” he mutters quietly. It isn’t at all like Louis could have actually _used_ Nialls cooking, beer and a movie or anything, tonight of all nights, when he just needs to feel _better_. He steps backwards towards the door awkwardly. “I might not make it...”

A small line forms between Harrys eyebrows, suddenly his whole demeanour is different. “Is everything okay?”

He sounds sincere, and Louis just swallows, smiling stiffly. “Yeah, fine and dandy and all that,” he’s almost repeating Harrys words from the night before, kind of hoping he notices, he then gestures a small wave before stepping inside, feeling just short of breath, everything warm that he feels around Harry evaporating.

Zayn is painting when Louis goes into his room. He doesn’t usually do this–– okay, he doesn’t _ever_ go into Zayn’s room unless he needs to ask him something quickly or wake him up. They’ve sort of just become accustomed to being like that, if they talk, it’s usually in Louis’ room. But they haven’t properly talked in a while.

So the immediate concern in Zayn’s face makes sense when Louis sits down on his bed. He puts his paintbrush down and moves over to him.

“Hey,” he says, curling a hand around Louis’ shoulder, “hey what’s the matter?”

Louis shrugs, feeling a pinch of anger because he doesn’t _know_. Really. He doesn’t know what is wrong, it’s not… it’s not Harry, that much he knows for sure. And its not his mum, not really, maybe a little, but it’s always been that way with them, so its nothing new, and its not reason enough for how he’s feeling.

“Dunno,” is what he ends up saying, “can I just… can I stay in here a bit? I’ll be quiet, I just don’t want to be alone right now,”

Zayn nods automatically. “Of course. Babe, of course you can.”

Louis smiles weakly and lies back on Zayn’s bed, gazing over some of the sketches and photographs taped to Zayn’s walls. A few drawn out moments pass before Zayn gets up again and continues painting, occasionally flicking Louis a concerned glance in between brush strokes.

He should probably talk to Zayn. But he doesn’t.

The sky falls completely by the time Zayn announces he’s going next door, they can hear the music pulsating out of the house, and Louis decides to join him because he doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts right now.

He doesn’t see Harry when he gets there, just an excited Niall Horan, but he assumes Harry is in his room like he usually is. He sees a few familiar faces that he avoids completely, its not that he doesn’t want to see them, he just doesn’t want to talk, sometimes it’s like that. He finds himself a couch in the corner, away from everything but still there just enough that he can feel like he exists. None of it makes sense, none of it, he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He watches the world spin, something isn’t working. Like time has stopped or sped up so fast he can’t see.

And it feels like that, really. It feels like everything is passing him in a blur, the entire night, colours and nameless faces, music playing sped up a hundred times but still fading into background noise and static. Zayn. Leaning into Louis’ space and consoling him, checking on him, then disappearing somewhere with Niall. His heart feels slow and heavy in his chest, he’s not even sad, he just feels sick. But not the real kind of sick, though, he still worries he might throw up, but for other reasons, like whatever is missing in his chest. He can feel it there even though it’s nothing but a blank space.

In all the time that passes, he realizes he hasn’t even had a drink.

He doesn’t know how he finds himself outside Harry’s door. Knocking, by some strange compulsion.

Footsteps. Quicker than usual for Harry and Louis almost worries he’s got someone else in there, it makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn’t though. It’s just him, standing in the doorway, looking back at Louis, reading his face. Louis doesn’t want him to though, not tonight, he just wants to feel him.

“Louis, are you–“

“Take off your clothes,” and before Louis can even register what he’s doing, he’s gripping onto Harrys shoulders and pushing him back into the room. Harry follows his gaze, something like concern in his eyes, but Louis doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need his worry. He just needs _him._

They have sex of course, because really that’s all Louis wants, the inexplicable heat of Harry inside of him, his breath hitching and clawing out of his throat with each thrust. It’s shameless and hot the way Harry works into him, his hands holding onto Louis’ shoulders, chests flush and legs curled around him, digging in.

The air in the room is thick with sex, and Louis doesn’t even work to hold back any sounds that might escape his lips. The music downstairs is too loud anyway. He lets himself go pliant in Harrys grasp, burying his face into his neck and squeezing him close, his thighs wrapped tightly around Harrys waist as he pushes into him deeply. It’s different, everything feels different and Louis is so sick of it.

Harry hits his spot and he groans heavily into him, chest heaving, and his thrusts slowly starting to falter, and then the boy pulls out altogether and flops onto his back next to Louis.

He feels a little more at ease except… except he doesn’t, there’s still a weight settling in the pit of his stomach, and he swallows back the lump in his throat.

_You’ll never find yourself someone._

He won’t. It’s true, he won’t. He’s staring at Harrys ceiling, Harry lying on the bed next to him, watching him, and all he can do is breathe heavily, shaking and trembling. He doesn’t want to fall in love, but he doesn’t want to be alone, and he doesn’t know if he’s fucking Harry because it’s easy and it’s good, or if it’s because he’s selfish. He doesn’t know what good could come from this anymore. He just wants to stop thinking for a moment. It’s just… it’s just too much. All of it.

She was right. And well, there isn’t much he can do about that now.

“Louis, hey,” Harry says suddenly, after a few long moments of silence. He rests a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

His voice is rough, and Louis turns to him and smiles, terribly fake. “I’m fine.” He can tell Harry doesn’t believe him by the way his expression stays the same. “I’m fine, I just–– I just remembered I have a lot of work to do so, I’m gonna–“

Harry sits up with him. “You sure?”

Louis looks back at him, and something insistent digs into his chest, makes a home at the back of his throat and sneaks up from the shadows that had settled in his head. He remembers this feeling, looking into those eyes, _Jesus fuck_ Harry is wonderful isn’t he? Really, quite wonderful, and Louis can’t take that, there’s no way, there’s no way it’ll be Harry. Not when he looks at him like that and he starts to fucking _care._ No. He won’t.

“Yeah.”

And yeah. Harry definitely isn’t buying it.

“M’ fine,” he says again, and there’s more confidence to his voice now, but his eyes might be betraying him.

If they are, Harry doesn’t say, he just gives him a look, heavy and intense… and he lets him go.

Louis goes back to his own flat, finding himself actually running up the stairs to get to his bedroom. He doesn’t realize why until his eyes start to sting.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter didn't go as planned but it ended up being really fun so?  
> comments are hugely appreciated, i'd love to hear your feedback!  
> x

“Louis.”

…

“ _Louis_.”

“Mm?”

“Hey,” Zayn crouches down beside Louis’ bed, pulling the covers from his face. “You okay?”

“Mm.” Louis groans again and attempts to readjust his duvet back over his eyes. Zayn doesn’t let him, just settles his gaze on Louis’ face, his dark eyes riddled with concern.

“No you’re not. You’re upset, and you won’t tell me why.” Zayn frowns, a sad undertone to his voice. Louis stares at his piercing gaze, his lips slightly arched downwards. He worries too much sometimes, it isn’t a bad trait, but it does cause Louis to make another disgruntled noise and press his face into his pillow.

Zayn flattens a hand on Louis’ back. “I’ll buy you breakfast, yeah? We’ll go for a walk.”

Louis sniffs and returns his gaze to Zayn. “Yeah, whatever. No cheap shit though, if you’re buying, we’re going all out.”

Zayn snorts. “You’re a pain when you’re moody. But fine, c’mon then.”

Louis gets out of bed and checks the time. It’s only eight in the morning. Even _without_ the party last night, Louis would still be surprised to see Zayn up this early. He wonders if he slept at all.

They walk down to a café through the park behind their house, the breeze picks up as they walk and Louis tugs his sweater sleeves over his hands until they’re inside. Zayn gets them a stack of pancakes and Louis’ favourite tea. He then proceeds to stir his coffee idly while peering not-so-subtly over at Louis across the table.

“Jay’s getting married,” Louis finally says.

Zayn lets out a sigh. “Thought it was something like that.”

Louis nods, feeling his chest tighten. “I just can’t handle it sometimes, I mean, she could barely commit to looking after us when dad left, how will this guy be any different to the ones she dated back then? Or to dad? I don’t want the girls to get attached to someone new just for him to leave again.”

Zayn nods slowly, letting him continue.

Louis sighs, long suffering, and rubs his hands over his face. “She just… she makes me crazy and she said all of these things and I just–“

“What did she say?”

Louis looks away.

“Louis…”

“She just knows what gets to me. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He sighs. The knot grows tighter in his chest.

Zayn draws a deep breath. “I know she does,” he pauses. Louis can feel the air change, he knows what he’s going to say. “If you maybe just went and had a proper conversation with her–“

“I can’t do that, Zayn. It wouldn’t be a good idea for either of us, I’m not ready.” He can feel the works sink way, way down to the craters forming in the pit of his stomach. “It won’t be better. I’m not any better.”

“You are though, we have better friends now and you’re doing really well at Uni.” There’s an odd soft tone to Zayn’s voice. He doesn’t hear it often. He doesn’t think he wants to hear it now.

“Yeah. Well, I’m not sure if it’s worth the risk.”

His chest is aching, and he looks out the window towards the park, pink trees shifting in the wind, swirls of colour, kids going to school. So much life. It's all so fucking weird. 

He chuckles softly, it isn’t real though, it’s jagged and strange and Zayn’s expression stays the same. “I really loved it, y’know? Football, living close to family, everything. I thought that was going to be it. I mean, I could picture her at my games.”

“Louis, don’t–“

“I was so _ready_ for it. And it gave dad a reason to stay in my life. He took me to the pitch on weekends and… and when I hurt myself, and he stopped showing, I was just… I was so _sad._ Sometimes I wonder if I did it on purpose. Just to see if he would still stick around.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You didn’t. Lou, you were miserable when that happened.”

“He didn’t even show. He sent a _Get Well Soon_ card to the hospital. It was our thing, and… he didn’t even care.”

“I know… I know, babe. I was there, I know.”

Louis lets out a heavy sigh. It’s been so long since they’ve talked about this. “I’m just tired of,” _this, him, everything,_ “failing.”

Zayn squeezes onto his hand across the table. “You never failed. Fuck, Lou, no way.” He drags his thumb across Louis’ hand, Louis keeps his eyes on his barely touched plate of pancakes, he refuses to cry over this again. “You deserved better, I’m so sorry, babe.”

Louis grips on tighter, he wants to tell Zayn, but he doesn’t. A fractured second lets in some light.

. . .

Louis ends up sleeping most of the day. He doesn’t really mean to, but they get back and his bed is still how he left it (which is reassuring) and it just looks so welcoming that a nap is the only thing that really makes sense. But of course a nap turns into a deep sleep that lasts the entire day. He vaguely recalls waking up to see Zayn poking his head in to check on him, but other than that he has succumbed to being entirely unresponsive.

It was needed though, because he wakes feeling well rested and a lot, a lot better. Still vaguely on edge, a slight discomfort digging into his bones, but better, all things considered.

He pushes himself out of bed, noting the setting sun out his window and pads through the hall to Zayn’s room, poking his head in the door, the dim light and paint fumes greeting him.

“You slept the whole day,” Zayn says, smiling gently at his painting. “Feel better?”

Louis nods. “Think so,”

“Talk to me, yeah? When you’re sad, s’ what I’m here for,” Zayn says, sounding both heartfelt and joking. Louis can’t tell from the deadpanned voice he masters so perfectly.

Louis nudges their shoulders together. “So you’re not just a pretty face?”

Zayn grins as he wipes his hands on his paint rag, and then plants a kiss on Louis’ cheek. “Pretty face and your entire emotional support group, it’s a full time job.” He steps past him to change into a cleaner shirt, chucking the band shirt into his wash basket.

“Going somewhere?” Louis asks.

Zayn looks at him oddly. “Next door, Niall's making pasta or something. Figured you were coming.”

That immediately sends Louis’ thoughts into a whirlwind of _HarryHarryHarry,_ and how he left last night on the verge of tears. Harry isn’t stupid (despite some of the names Louis may have called him in the past), and he knows he could tell. He thinks it would be rational to let that box stay closed for the night.

“I might just stay here,” Louis says, and no further explanation is really needed because Zayn just nods, like he gets it, and he always does. He’s sort of wonderful like that.

“I’ll bring you some food,” Zayn says, pulling on his boots. “Niall’s the kind of twenty one year old that owns proper full sets of Tupperware, did you know that?” he snickers, shaking his head.

Louis smiles. “That so?”

“Yeah. He, um, he brought over some baking when I was painting the other day.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. So… I’ll see you when I get back?” Zayn’s usual composure returns and he puts on his leather jacket. “No parties, no boys, don’t set the house on fire.”

“No parties, no fires, got it.”

Zayn arches his eyebrows, almost as if he’s going to reinforce that third rule but instead he just chuckles and heads out.

Louis showers for too long, wraps himself up in comfy, warm clothes, digs out a pint of ice cream and sits on the couch, letting his mind wander through different crime shows. It’s only then that he checks his phone.

_Harry: if you went to the moon w/o me I must say, I’m deeply offended :(_

There are a series of moon emoji’s attached at the end. All of it is so stupid and Louis must be really stupid for smiling like an idiot while he reads it.

_Louis: I would never._

He focuses his eyes back on the TV screen, it takes the sound of the door closing to know he had drifted off. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes to focus on Zayn wandering into the house.

“Honey, I’m home,” Zayn says as he kicks off his boots.

Louis pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the couch. “Hey, you’re awfully cheery.”

Zayn shrugs half-heartedly and shakes off his coat, wet from the rain. “It was fun, we looked at some of the photos from Niall and Harrys trips, they did keep wanting to come over and see you, they were worried.”

“They were?” Louis asks casually, flicking through the channels.

“Yes. All of them, Harry included.”

Louis refuses to show how that spikes his interest, and just hums noncommittally. “Was he?”

Zayn nods, looking down at his phone, Louis swears if that’s Niall checking he got home okay, he’s going to scream. “Asked if you were okay, I said you were just tired. Figured you wouldn’t want them bombarding you,”

Louis smiles, not that Zayn is looking. “Thank you for that.”

Zayn’s looks up, and he grins, holding a container in his hand. “I’ll put your food in the fridge.”

Zayn comes back a few minutes later, giggling quietly about something on his phone. Louis doesn’t pry. He sits down next to him, shifting under Louis’ blanket and cradling a bowl of crisps, they’re watching Mulan when Louis’ phone vibrates.

_Harry: Study session at yours tomorrow? I’m not insinuating that we have to do anything, just in case you’re not up for leaving the house. I’ll bring my books, be on my best behaviour, promise._

Louis doesn’t know why he has to assume that they can’t study at home without something happening. He can, in fact, control himself around Harry, and besides, Zayn will probably be home anyway. Not that he needs him there. He is in complete control.

_Louis: sounds like a plan._

. . .

“Ah––! Fuck, Lou–“ Harry winces, his mouth hanging open against the pillow as Louis eases into him.

(Okay, maybe he doesn’t have as much control as he thought. But Liam, Zayn and Niall decided to spend the day at a farmers market, and in his defence, Harry showed up in a shirt that was mostly unbuttoned and tight jeans with more rips in them than really necessary, which, on Harry, it was a very good look. The clothes are on the floor now, but that’s beside the point.)

Pleasure shoots up Louis’ spine in blazing sparks, and he smooth’s his hands over Harrys hips. “Alright?”

Harry nods, clenching onto his sheets. “Yes. God, yes. I’m so good.”

His voice comes out in a rough moan that goes straight down to Louis’ cock, and he continues to thrust into him, still pushing in slowly to ease him into it, but everything is hot and wet and the sight of Harry in front of him is almost too much, his legs are already trembling as he presses against Harry, building in a rhythm that makes him feel dizzy.

A few long moments are spent fucking him slowly, wonderfully. Then Harry lets out a choked groan, his hands fisting the sheets. “Faster, Lou.”

And yeah, okay.

Harry pushes backwards into Louis before he’s even had a chance to pick up the pace, he can hear his ragged breathing, similar to his own, and his thrusts quicken, moving faster and faster while holding Harry in place, Harry begging him to keep going, encouraging him. Fuck. It’s overwhelming.

Harry reaches down underneath him and tugs at his cock, whimpering as Louis continues to pound into him, his pace unrelenting. Louis’ legs are shaking from the intensity building up in a pool of heat about to burst, but he keeps Harry in place, his hands firm on his body, clutching him. _Fuck fuck fuck._

With a long sigh, Harry comes first, dropping his hand from his wet cock and panting heavily. There’s something about the broken groan the boy makes that drives Louis past insanity, it’s fascinating, and borderline exhilarating.

When Louis comes, his entire body is shaking, feeling like he's on fire, and he pulls out, finding it impossible to keep himself upright. He throws the condom in the bin, and he outright collapses next to Harry who is splayed out on his back, forehead sweaty and lips wet and red, Louis finds it infuriating when he looks like that.

“Well,” Harry says, in between heavy breaths. “We sure are getting a lot of work done.”

Louis snorts and sits up, he grabs a towel off the floor and throws it at Harry and then heads to the bathroom to wash himself off quickly and pull on some clean clothes. When he gets back into his room, Harry is dressed again, the bed is made and he’s lying on his stomach with his legs crossed behind him, flipping through a textbook.

They spend the next hour jotting down notes, the odd bicker here and there, and that’s good, it makes sense. Louis refuses to acknowledge the things that don’t, like the way his heart races whenever Harry stretches his muscles or when Harry laughs, like really laughs at some stupid joke Louis makes. It doesn’t make sense. It feels odd. It feels nostalgic. And not the good kind.

They’ve gotten a good amount of work done by the time Louis starts to notice his empty stomach, he’s sitting up against the headboard, (he’s sure there are dents in the wall behind him now) and Harry is lying on his side next to him, head propped up on his elbow and chewing on the end of his pencil idly.

Louis nudges him with his ankle. “Snack break?”

Harry nods eagerly. “Please.

They head down to the kitchen, Louis pulls out some baking that Niall must have brought over and a bag of crisps, pouring them into a bowl while Harry makes them each a cup of tea. They end up just sitting at the breakfast bar in a comfortable silence, that is, until Harry’s phone starts to ring. His ringtone is a Destiny’s Child song. Louis wouldn’t have expected anything less, if he’s honest.

It’s not even that that makes Louis jump, it’s the sheer speed in which Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket to answer it, not even looking at Louis as he slides out of his chair and heads towards the back patio. “Gem? Hi, um. How is everything…” he loses the rest of the conversation pretty quickly.

So… that was odd.

Louis is honestly filled with a strange mixture of frustration, curiosity and concern the entire time Harry stands outside talking, pacing over the porch, tucking a fidgety hand into the pocket of his jeans, and a weird, contorted look on his face. Louis’ eyes follow him the entire time, little to his own control it would seem.

When Harry finally ends the call, Louis exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leans back in his chair only just realising how tense he had become. Harry saunters back into the room, an unreadable look on his face. He looks ill almost.

He sits back down and continues to pick at his muffin, and Louis feels the spark of something shoot up his spine, everything is so quiet he can hear himself breathing. It’s a still, oddly frozen moment before Harry speaks again.

“So how come Niall brings all of his baking over here for you guys? I don’t recall having any at home.” There’s a strange hint of forced amusement in his tone, it sort of stings.

Louis chuckles anyway, because Harry is obviously trying to change the topic. “I don’t think it's because of me.”

Harry grins when Louis looks at him again. And he’s sure there’s something else lingering there. Maybe. “They do spend an awful lot of time together.”

“Should we give them the _talk_?” Louis asks, smirking.

Harry laughs earnestly this time. “We’ll let Liam handle that.”

Louis looks away to hide his smile. It’s nice, in spite of everything. It’s nice to be friends with Harry, it always has been, and he misses it a lot. He misses him and when things were like this. He’d like it to be like that again, but there’s still too much left unsaid, jumbled remains of what used to exist between them anyway.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, psyching himself up to say the words. He’s never been good at this.

“Harry, I–“

Of course that’s when his phone decides to vibrate violently. Of course.

Harry just looks at him oddly, and okay, Louis might be slightly grateful for the interruption. He’s really not ready, and Harry can always see right through him.

_Greg: Are you free today?_

His stomach sinks. It’s not Greg’s fault, really, it’s not. But like, it doesn’t settle well with him to go out today, and it wouldn’t be fair to Greg, especially considering all of the unresolved feelings that are slowly but surely eating away at his brain.

_Louis: sorry, can’t make it. Another time???_

He sets his phone down again, hoping Harry doesn’t see how utterly tense he’s feeling.

_Greg: yeah, totally, that’s fine. Txt when ur free x_

That one flashes across Louis’ screen, and Harry sees it.

“Ouch. Shooting him down again,” Harry says after a glance.

Louis shrugs half-heartedly. “He’ll be fine. I mean, I will _eventually_ … I’m just not feeling up for it at the moment.”

“You really don’t like dating do you?” Harry asks, and his tone isn’t harsh or anything. It’s empathetic. Strange.

Louis shrugs again, tugging on a bit of loose string hanging off of his sweater sleeve; he’s not really sure what to do with his hands. “It just isn’t that appealing to me. Greg’s nice, yeah, but… not sure if he’s worth all of the mess that comes with it.”

“That’s sort of a sad way to think.”

Louis stares.

“Now you’re sounding like Liam,” he says, sort of jokingly, sort of not. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know what his head is doing right now.

Harry is quiet after that, thank God. Louis doesn’t need another one of these lectures, and especially not from him. Those words are still ringing at the back of his head, they used to devour his every thought, but he’s learnt how to coexist with them there. He knows how to be prepared to hear it from Zayn, and he knows very well how to take it from his mum, or, better yet, he knows how to hide from her words.

Which. It’s a bit pathetic. But Louis has grown not to mind so much.

And it’s _Harry._ There should be a mutual understanding that those kinds of conversations can stay locked away where they should be.

Slowly, very slowly, Louis continues to eat his barely touched muffin. Working the air back to comfortable.

“Did you love him?” Harry asks unexpectedly, slicing into the silence.

This is the opposite of comfortable.

Louis’ entire body tenses and he looks at Harry, brows furrowing. “What?”

His whole body feels frozen in anticipation of what Harry is going to say.

“Aiden,” Harry says, his voice is soft, but also sort of jagged, his gaze heavy and watchful. Louis averts his eyes immediately. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “Is that why you’re so bitter about… all of this?”

Louis feels his body clench again, he wonders when the room got so cold. “I don’t– I don’t know. I was seventeen. I was young.” _And stupid. So, so stupid._

“So was I,” Harry says immediately, his voice is gentle, but filled with certainty and his face is… calm, almost, but it’s tilted forward, completely focused on Louis. Like he has to say these things, like they have to talk about this.

And yeah, maybe they do. Maybe they really should. Still, it doesn’t help the ache in Louis’ chest, it comes in a wave whenever he looks at Harry, a sort of powerful surge he's struggling to identify. It’s heavy, weighing down on him, crushing him.

He could really use a cigarette.

But then Harry’s hand is on his, flattening over it softly on the bench. It’s warm. Louis struggles to breathe as he looks at Harry, his face is earnest and determined. 

Louis feels the weight of this moment, and it’s frightening.

Harry inhales deeply. “Louis, I didn’t even know–“

The door bursts open in that exact moment, it jolts Louis out of whatever that was, but it takes a good few seconds before he can rip his eyes away from Harry and pull his hand back. And yeah, maybe the talking can wait anyway. These interruptions are definitely some kind of sign.

Niall is strolling in with bags of groceries, the others following behind, and Louis gets up quickly to help them with the bags. Because yeah, distractions are good. Zayn shows him a bracelet he got at the market from some eclectic little boutique, said he got everyone a matching one (which is strangely affectionate for Zayn, but Louis doesn’t mention it.)

Louis spends longer than necessary fussing with his, adjusting the strap on his wrist until it’s tight enough, and then when everyone is sitting on the couch, Liam heads over next door to shower.

“Okay,” Niall says, switching off the TV and he and Zayn turn to face them. “We have a thing to discuss with you two.”

Louis arches as eyebrow and glances at Harry who looks just as confused, so he lets his eyes drift between Niall and Zayn innocently. “You’re getting a divorce?”

Harry snorts, causing his shoulders to shudder and he covers his mouth.

Zayn, on the other hand, looks unimpressed. “Dude.”

Louis sucks on his bottom lip to stop his smirk. “Sorry. Bad joke. I think I’m allowed to use it though, all things considered.”

Niall waves his hand. “ _Anyway_ ,”

“Right, your thing. Sorry, please continue.”

“It’s Liam’s birthday tomorrow and he doesn’t want a big party or anything, so we thought we could throw him a surprise party? Just us lads, we’ve told him you and Zayn are going away to visit Zayn’s parents, and Harry you’re volunteering at that beach clean up thing over on the coast, staying there overnight.” Niall explains.

Harry’s attention spikes and he leans forward a little. “There’s a beach clean up?”

“You’re not going.”

Harry slouches back down, pouting.

“I’ve told Liam I’ll take him out for the day and do some fun things with him, meanwhile, Zayn’ll make one of those ironically shitty happy birthday banners while he’s in class, Harry, you’re on shopping duty, and Louis, you’re setting up at the house.” Niall states, with Zayn nods over a list they must have written on the back of a receipt.

“Jesus. Efficient.”

“Liam deserves it,” Niall says simply. “And we’ll get a bunch of old board games and shit. Have a proper birthday party, it’ll be fun yeah?”

“Yeah, it’ll be great,” Harry says.

“When did you guys think of this?” Louis asks, looking at Zayn.

Zayn snickers, eyes fluttering over to Niall once. “Liam got distracted by a supplements store while we were out, the poor soul.”

They explain the rest of the plan, and then Liam comes back causing Niall to abruptly change the discussion to a completely different topic, somehow the only other thing Niall's mind are facts on the mating processes of seahorses. Louis doesn’t even want to know.

. . .

Niall is in full prepping mode the next morning, he’s already text both Louis and Zayn several times to make sure they stay out of sight until he’s left with Liam, they even parked the car in the garage for the first time since they moved here. It feels odd for Louis to be following Niall's every word, but he kind of likes the structure, he won’t lie.

Louis had just finished crouching down to make a stealthy cup of tea in the kitchen when Niall texts him.

_Niall: ok Li’s with me. Going to see a movie. Got his fav in the crockpot, can u turn it on at 10ish? H will be out by then._

He breathes a sigh of relief, it’s not like he intends to fully avoid Harry like his many previous plans, but he would like to wait out that specific conversation until a little while longer at least. Until he’s ready.

_Louis: yea no prob._

_Niall: thank u. decorations are in my room x_

Zayn leaves for class not long after to get started on Liam’s “ _ironically shitty banner”_ and Louis heads over next door to get started on his assigned jobs. He also does the extra list of kitchen jobs that Niall left on a notepad by the front door, and then he heads upstairs to Niall's room.

When he opens the door, he’s greeted with so much fucking colour he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It reminds him of his sixth birthday when the wind knocked over a table holding everything. Balloons, streamers and cake everywhere. It was disgusting.

He gets to work, carrying it all downstairs, he hangs bunting from the ceiling, lays out a rainbow polka dot table cloth, and sets down colourful plates suited more for a kids party. But it’s fun, sort of suits this weird, dysfunctional family dynamic they have going on.

He’s only managed to blow up one packet of balloons by the time Harry walks through the door, carrying a few bags of groceries, stopping when he see’s him.

He actually _laughs_ at the sight of Louis shamelessly lying on his back on the carpet, a half blown balloon in his hands and his chest heaving a little excessively.

“I’ve seen that look before, haven’t I?” Harry says once he’s finished laughing.

Louis rolls his eyes and props himself up on his elbows, watching as Harry puts the groceries on the bench and then sits down next to him, picking up a pink balloon.

“There’s an art to blowing up this many balloons without passing out, Lou,” Harry says, stretching the balloon out a little.

“Show me then, if you’re such an expert.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smirk. He bites onto the end of the balloon, holding it in his mouth while he takes the hair tie off of his wrist and ties his hair up into a bun.

Louis snorts. “Getting ready?”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, taking the balloon out of his mouth again. “This is very serious business.”

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically, a grin easily fitting onto his face as he watches Harry suck in a deep breath, looking like a toddler about to dive deep underwater. He then brings the balloon to his lips and in one easy breath, he blows it up almost all the way.

“Jesus.” Louis mutters, watching with dazed eyes. It’s weirdly hypnotising.

Harry winks and finishes blowing it up, his cheeks flushed and hollowing. Louis is definitely unaffected by all of it.

He ties it up easily and then–

He throws it straight at Louis’ face.

There’s a flash of pink and then it’s gone. It doesn’t hurt, obviously, but Louis still sports a very unimpressed expression. “Really?” he deadpans.

A smirk is tugging at the corner of Harry’s mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Louis’ annoyance just seems to satisfy him further because a ridiculous, childish giggle rips through him. And no, Louis won’t have that.

He grabs a previously blown up balloon hovering next to him and throws it at Harry, it bounces off of his head with less impact than Louis had intended and then proceeds to float into the next room.

He can’t help but snigger at how Harry somehow didn’t expect that to happen. There’s a glint in his eyes though, challenging.

“Brave,” Harry says, reaching for the bag of balloons.

The next hour is spent creating balloon ammo and chasing each other around the house, he’s feeling fucking ridiculous and blissfully happy. Like they’re _friends_ almost. Louis’ chest hurts when he’s hiding backed against the wall next to the door to Liam’s room, a sort of forlorn weight settling there.

He can just– he can feel everything right now, heightened in the lump in the back of his throat, the odd flush of warmth that settles there is nice almost, if not just vaguely unsettling. It’s just _easy_ with Harry. They fit together so easily, that’s why Louis was drawn to him in the first place. Ironically enough, that just made it hurt worse.

God, he’s a mess.

He’s too lost in his thoughts he doesn’t even notice Harry entering, and he’s not really sure what happens after that, but there are balloons everywhere and clumsy Harry is tripping on Liam’s Gryffindor hoodie on the ground and Louis is falling backwards onto his bed while Harry topples on top of him.

“Oh,” he lets out, sort of dazed, trying to come to terms with how he ended up on his back with Harry’s body pressed against his, his elbows on the sides of his shoulders and his face mere millimetres away. Louis wonders for a moment if there was a point where he got drunk without realising it, he feel’s intoxicated beyond belief right now but he’s certain he hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol.

And, whoa Harry is close.

He can feel every inch of him, is the thing. All of his body heat, the curve of his muscles through his tight jeans and thin shirt. He’s looking right into Harry’s eyes and the air feels too thick, like there isn’t enough in the room for both of them. He could really kiss him right now, if he wanted to… but that would be incredibly stupid, and Louis prides himself in being quite the opposite.

Harry’s brows furrow in that instant and he clears his throat, pushing himself up, a loose curl that had fallen out of his bun caresses Louis’ jawline, and that alone is enough to send an odd tingling sensation up his spine. It’s not the same sort of urgency that causes Louis to want to rip Harry’s clothes off, it’s something else entirely, and it’s making his head spin.

When Harry’s back on his feet, brushing his shirt down awkwardly, Louis sits up on the end of the bed. And he watches him.

It’s only expected that Harry would pull a balloon out of nowhere and throw it at him. And it’s definitely expected that all of Louis’ strange feelings would dissolve into thin air, and he’d shoot him a blank stare instead.

Harry just grins.

“Got you.”

. . .

A very serious game of ‘The Floor Is Lava’ is happening when Zayn gets home, ironic shitty banner in hand, and a very unimpressed look on his face.

Louis pauses where he’s climbing onto the back of the couch, balloon in hand, ready to throw Harry’s way. And Harry, who is using dining chairs to get from one side of the room to the other, also stops what he’s doing. Yes, Louis is aware of how ridiculous this looks.

Zayn arches an eyebrow, pausing for a prolonged moment before sighing heavily. “I need a drink,” He says, and saunters off towards the kitchen.

Louis snorts, hitting Harry with a green balloon when he’s distracted. “Game point. I win.” He gets down off of the couch.

“I didn’t know we were keeping score,” Harry says amusedly, following him into the kitchen.

Louis shrugs. “I’m terribly competitive, which I’m sure you’ll find out about tonight.”

It’s true, Niall had found a bunch of party games on the Internet, and Louis is on a fucking mission to win all of them, and okay, maybe he’ll go easy on Liam, but the others don’t stand a chance.

. . .

The house is well on its way to being Niall approved, and Harry is helping Louis untangle some fairy lights in the lounge. Zayn had just finished hanging his banner, it’s as tacky as it is wonderful, covered in vibrant paint and glitter. Louis could even wipe away a fake tear while he stares at it. He definitely doesn’t do that just to annoy Zayn. Definitely not.

Louis’ been sort of helping with the food, but his idea of helping tends to involve more eating than anything, and that resulted in Harry banning him from the kitchen. It’s not as though he’s ever cooked anything without burning it anyway, but being stuck with the fairy lights is shaping up to be a real pain. He’s secretly grateful that Harry is helping him. But he doesn't need to know that.

“I don’t even think they’re necessary,” Louis says, lifting up a clump of tangled wire and lights. “Like, really.”

Harry hums, looking down at the jumbled lights intently as he tries to rid them of a knot. “No, they are. They’ll look wicked.”

He’s got a smudge of red icing from Liam’s cake on his collarbone, Louis wonders how it got there. It’s just beneath the curve of his neck, high enough that the neckline of his low-cut shirt isn’t covering it.

Harry suits baking, doesn’t he? He had a small job in a bakery back in Doncaster, he’d bring Louis some of the day old muffins when he got to school, and he always smelt nice, like freshly baked bread and sweet dough. Sometimes there would be flour in his hair that Louis would kindly point out to him before they got to class. Ah, memories. Being hit by a truck would surely be less painful.

“Louis,” Zayn tilts his head at him and Louis jerks back. Subtle as fuck.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Zayn looks at him strangely. “Just saying, Niall text, they just left the movies, twenty minutes away. So… time is of the essence.” He waves his hand at the mess of fairy lights that Harry is diligently working on.

Oh, right. Decorating.

. . .

“Guys, they’re almost home,” Zayn says, looking down at his phone.

They make their way into the closet that Niall had assigned for them to hide in, stifling silly laughter as they let the darkness envelop them in. Louis tries to make space for Zayn, bumping into another body instead.

“Yeah, hi.” Harry whispers, chuckling. Louis is happy he isn’t able to see his cheeks burning.

It’s easily one of the most uncomfortable situations of his life. He’s fine being close to Zayn, and even Harry, but together it’s… it’s interesting. He hadn’t exactly accounted for this. Harry and Zayn get on well, but shoved into a small closet with his best friend and the boy he’s secretly fucking does raise some odd feelings.

He takes a tiny step backwards as Zayn shifts, and, oh– okay. That’s Harry against him. He has entirely backed into Harry. Has it always been so hot in here?

Oh boy.

He steps to the side as much as he can without hitting the wall, and then there’s a big hand on his hip, and he can feel Harry trembling with hushed laughter as he shifts away. Maybe to make Louis more comfortable, or maybe just to mess with him, because his hand lingers for a few extra seconds before falling, the heat of his touch burning into him. It isn’t an appealing sensation _at all_ and Louis refuses to get hard when his best friend is only centimetres away.

Zayn doesn’t seem to notice though, he’s listening intently for the other boys’ entrances and Harry is still trembling with laughter at Louis’ discomfort. Motherfucker.

It barely takes a second before Louis bravely slides a hand onto Harrys arse over his jeans, wholly grateful for the fact that it’s pitch black. Harry jumps at the touch, a squeak escaping his lips as he attempts to hit Louis away.

“Shh! They could walk in any second.” Zayn waves his hand vaguely at both of them, not exactly certain on the source of the sound.

Louis snickers, ah, sweet revenge. Harry, however, elbows him in the side, and Louis doesn’t move his hand away, because Harry squirming in his touch is just making him laugh more, covering his mouth with his other hand to keep quiet. It doesn’t help when Harry starts to giggle, he can feel him shaking, and Louis tries to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself. It doesn’t work.

“Guys, what the hell?” Zayn half-whispers.

Louis sucks in a deep breath. “Sorry–“ he chokes out just as Harry pinches his hip, the word breaking off into another burst of laughter that neither of them can seem to stop. He tries to bury his face into whatever is closest, and that just happens to be Harry’s shirt. He feels Harry stiffen momentarily, but continue to shudder with choked laughter while Louis presses his forehead into his shoulder.

They hear the front door close, Zayn hits both of them again and Louis tries his best to calm down. Harry gives his thigh a quick pat and the laughter about nothing tones down enough for them to hear Niall shout:

“Home sweet home!” (and he swears the boy has never said that in his life) but that’s their queue and they all pop out of the cupboard shouting “surprise!” as Niall switches the lights on.

Liam’s face is as wonderful as it is fucking heartbreaking because the boy is almost in tears (happy tears, he assures them), and he makes sure to say that the thought of just spending his birthday with only Niall wasn’t terrible but that he’s _absolutely thrilled_ that they’re all there too. He also asks why Harry and Louis look like they’re crying. Louis doesn’t really have an answer for that and he pinches Harrys bum when the others walk past them.

Harry just giggles again, and Louis laughs properly this time.

. . .

Liam is thrilled with the concept Niall and Zayn had come up with for his party, outright demanding they play the _Newlyweds_ game first. Louis thinks he just wants to do this because he gets to be in charge, and maybe because it’s a drinking game. That is, if they get any of them wrong, and Louis fully intends on winning.

“How well do you know your lover?” Liam reads aloud, glancing down at a list of questions on his phone.

“Why is this on the games list, Niall?” Zayn asks, sounding vaguely annoyed. “None of us are couples.”

Niall cackles. “I thought it would be funny.”

Louis keeps his eyes on the swirling liquid in his cup, and thankfully Zayn is already hovering close to Louis’ side.

Liam looks at them as if they’re playing pieces and just shakes his head. “No, we can’t do best friends together, that won’t be fair. Zayn, you’re with Niall.”

Oh joy.

Louis glances Harrys way, he’s playing with a deflated balloon and not really paying much attention, so he returns his gaze to Liam, who is smirking happily, the sneaky little shit.

They all seat themselves down on the ground, each holding a sketchbook and pen while Liam leans against his beanbag in front of them all, an adorable paper crown on his head, fit for a king. King Liam, sounds about right.

“Alright,” Liam says, “are the couples ready? This one is for Harry and Niall to answer.”

Louis clutches his pen.

He is so fucking ready.

He _knows_ Harry. They’ve got this in the bag.

“What was the first movie you watched together?” Liam reads, looking excited as he waits for the answers.

Zayn writes his answer quickly.

“Deadpool!” Niall cheers.

Louis snaps his head up from his writing. “When did you guys see Deadpool?”

“Louis, write your answer,” Liam says.

“Sorry.”

“Harry?”

Harry’s brows are furrowing as he tries to think. “Um… shit, it wasn’t at the cinema.” He looks at Louis. “We went to a drive in, right?”

“Louis isn’t allowed to answer,”

“You went to a drive in together?” Zayn asks curiously.

Harry taps his pen against his lips, ignoring that question. “Right, um. I’m just not sure if it was the first one we saw together…”

“Just answer, Haz.”

“Okay, we went to a drive in movie and we watched Grease.” Harry says.

“Alright, let’s see what you put boys,”

Zayn turns his sketchbook to show an elaborate drawing of Deadpool, shading and everything, to which Niall awards him with a high five.

They then look at Louis.

_Grease, drive in movie._

“Louis, Zayn, this ones for you guys.” Liam nods towards them, reading his question like a game show host. “What is their favourite ice cream flavour?”

“Oh shit, um.” Zayn taps his finger to his closed lips. “It had a long title, something like chocolate cookies and fudge with caramel swirl?”

Niall beams, his sketchbook showing the exact same answer.

“Louis?”

“Uh…” Louis sighs, thinking. “Coconut and cacao fake vegan ice cream thing?”

Harry grins.

_Coconut vegan ice cream with cacao nibs. Made with love._

Seriously, Harry. Eye roll.

 

“What is their biggest fear?”

Niall points at Zayn as he thinks. “I do recall you saying you’re not a fan of the water. Any water, pools, the beach, so yeah, that’s my answer.”

And as expected, Zayn’s drawn some waves.

They look at Harry, and he’s looking at Louis, cautiously, like he’s asking permission. Louis just nods once.

“Louis is afraid of being close to someone,” Harry says tentatively.

A pause.

Louis just shrugs casually and turns his sketchbook to reveal a drawing of a heart.

 

“What would be their idea of a perfect weekend?”

Zayn starts to list on his fingers. “A morning run, followed by a road trip to the coast, and then lots of surfing and sunbathing.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow at Zayn before turning to Liam. “Okay, Harry would love to spend a weekend doing something hipster-y like taking photos in a botanical gardens.”

_Road trips, exercise and surfing!_

_I would take a wander through pretty gardens with my camera._

“Which Friends character are they?”

Louis and Zayn have barely finished writing when the boys are blurting out their answers.

“Chandler.”

“Rachel.”

And Liam doesn’t even need to check their answers.

 

“You're all too good at this," Liam says, finding the next question. “Aha! This might be a tough one. What would be their dream proposal?”

Zayn purses his lips contemplatively. “Um, okay, I think Niall would want to find out through a bit of an adventure with clues and shit?”

“What the fuck?” Niall exclaims excitedly, flipping over his sketchbook to show the words, ‘ _elaborate treasure hunt!’_

Liam puts a hand to his heart. “You _guys._ ”

Louis levels his gaze when Liam’s attention is on him. He’s got this.

“Well, Harry isn’t very conventional, so a big romantic gesture is kind of out of the cards. He would want something that shows that you’ve put a lot of thought into it. Like, if it were me for example, I’d make a fort out of sheets and fairy lights in the living room, like we used to back in high school and um. I’d get a projector and play some of his favourite films. We’d be watching one of them and then I’d just… ask. I don’t think he’d want a big spectacle made out of it.”

He lets out a steady breath, his heart about to leap out of his chest. God knows why.

He looks around, finding all eyes on him, a sort of fondness coming from each of them.

And Harry.

Harry is looking… stunned almost.

He flips over his sketchbook.

_Nothing too extravagant. Just something cozy, during a movie perhaps._

 

“What is their favourite TV show?”

Harry clears his throat, still seems to be recovering from Louis’ last answer. “From what I know, Louis is a big fan of crime shows, I don’t remember which one is your favourite though so I’m going to say… Criminal Minds?”

Louis winks and as expected: _Criminal Minds._

Niall looks frustrated, biting down on his bottom lip as he thinks.

Louis is thrilled. They are so going to win.

“Well this isn’t fair because Zayn doesn’t really watch a lot of TV shows, just that Bob guy.” Niall mumbles.

Zayn bursts out with laughter, it’s unexpected, and brilliant.

_Nothin’ really, Bob Ross I guess?_

 

“So, you all know each other far too well which honestly makes me tear up a little,” Liam says, genuinely seeming emotional. “However, this means we have to have a tie breaker, which is exciting and I enjoy having all of this power.” He tilts the crown on his head to better sit on his immaculately styled hair.

While Liam is trying to find a tiebreaker question, and Zayn and Niall have fallen into a conversation, Louis picks at some of the birthday cake on his plate next to him.

“Where did that proposal come from?” Harry asks out of nowhere.

Louis’ cheeks flush. “I just… I know you like it when people remember little things that you enjoy. I was simply playing with that concept. Don’t worry, I’ll tell your future lover that it’s the perfect idea.”

A stifled laugh escapes Harrys throat. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay, I have my question!” Liam says.

They all turn their attention back to him.

Liam clears his throat. “This is a bit of an easy one for those of you who knew each other in high school–“

“Boo!” Niall yells.

“–but I could be wrong.” Liam smirks. Louis is awfully suspicious. “Okay, here it is.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Who was their first kiss?”

Louis’ insides freeze at once.

Shit.

He looks at Harry, the smile has been wiped completely from his face as well and he look at Louis with the same kind of discomfort.

He knows who Harrys first kiss was, and Harry knows that he knows and that he can’t very well say who it is, not in front of the others. Not when he hasn’t even talked to Harry about it since everything happened.

“It was you, wasn’t it Liam.” Zayn is suddenly saying, and okay, that does momentarily distract Louis.

“What?” he asks incredulously, and from Liam’s laughter, it isn’t hard to guess.

“We were both a little curious, I guess,” Niall says, chuckling, flipping over his sketchbook to show _Liam Payne._

“You two kissed?” Harry gestures between the two of them. “And you never told me?”

“We were like fourteen, and Liam’s straight, it was just some… _experimenting_ between friends.” Niall explains. “Thankfully, I told Zayn about it the other night.”

“So what about you then?” Zayn says, looking at them now.

Louis’ chest tightens again, he doesn’t let his gaze settle on Harry. He knows what they’re both thinking. “Looks like you win, I don’t know this one.”

Niall cheers and pulls Zayn in for a sideways hug.

Liam glances pointedly at him and Harry before pouring them both a drink, and Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him too, like fire.

. . .

The next couple of hours pass with more overly competitive party games.

 _Monopoly_ was going to happen but then Niall informed them of The Games Night Incident which involved a playing piece smashing through a window and fake money hitting the ceiling fan. _Pictionary_ ended up taking longer than expected, though Louis thinks it was an unfair advantage for Liam to request to be on a team with Zayn who just so happens to be an amazing artist. He thinks his team did well enough, though they wouldn’t have gotten any points without Harry’s graphic illustration of a male stripper.

All in all, it’s been a successful night. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever laughed so much in his life, it’s completely ridiculous and probably the most fun any of them have had in a long time. (Though, playing beer pong before charades was probably not the smartest idea.)

The night is at that point where everyone’s drunk their weight in alcohol, but honestly, Louis feels fine.

They’re in the middle of a round of _Truth or Dare Spin The Bottle_ (a stupid combination of games in Zayn’s opinion). It’s been fairly easy so far, just questions like _which player would you want to be stuck on a desert island with?_ (The obvious answer is Liam) and a seven minutes in heaven style dare which involved Louis taking Liam into a closet, disheveling the boys hair and making hilariously exaggerated sex noises for seven minutes. The horrorstruck faces when they exited were truly golden and worth possibly scarring Liam for life.

Liam sits back down and spins the bottle, landing on Niall.

“Truth or dare?”

Niall scoffs. “Dare, c’mon.”

Liam picks out one of the dares, arching his eyebrows. “Kiss the person to your left.” He reads, amused.

It takes Louis far too long to realise that that person is him.

“Oh my god, my whole life has been leading up to this moment,” Louis says dramatically, turning completely on his side to face Niall, mustering up all of the fake eagerness he can manage. “C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Niall laughs. “You’re doing a great job at making this less awkward.”

Louis smirks, he is actually very glad this is happening with Niall. Very, very glad it’s not someone else.

“Alright, c’mere beautiful,” Niall says and leans forward, placing a soft kiss to Louis’ lips.

It barely lasts five seconds before there are wolf whistles coming from Liam and Harry and they’re both pulling back from the kiss, laughing hysterically.

Niall plants another kiss on his cheek once the laughter has subsided, and Louis can’t help but notice Zayn next to him, his shoulders stiff and mouth drawn in a hard line. He gives him a reassuring smile, and Zayn weakly smiles back. Louis feels his chest sink, unsure of what he can do without bothering Zayn further.

He drops his gaze as Niall spins the bottle, and it lands on Harry. Louis is sort of holding out for something hilarious so that Zayn will laugh. Does that make him a bad person? No, surely not. 

“Dare,” Harry says straight away.

Niall reads the dare, smirking wickedly. “Do press ups until it’s your turn again.”

Hah.

“Alright, I can do that,” Harry says snootily and turns onto his knees, stretching his legs out and easily dropping down, muscles pulsing as he presses against the ground and lifts himself back up. Louis doesn’t stare. He _doesn’t._

“Can we please take the rest of the game really _slowly_ ,” Louis says, smirking, definitely because he knows it’ll start to hurt soon, there isn't any other reason.

“You’re an–“ Harry pants as he drops down. “–arsehole,”

“I’ll spin for you, Harry,” Liam says.

“So kind,” Harry manages, his hair hanging over his face as he concentrates.

Liam spins the bottle again, and it points towards Zayn who is only looking slightly more amused than earlier. Louis watches him carefully.

“Truth or dare, Zayn?” Liam asks. So far Zayn has only had to confess a dark secret, to which he admitted he’s never watched _Titanic_ and has no intention to. That seemed to be good enough for the other boys who honestly looked _appalled._

“Truth,” Zayn says, unbothered.

Liam reads the question, quirking an eyebrow and grinning strangely. “Uh.” He clears his throat, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. “Top or bottom?”

“Bottom.” Zayn answers immediately, a serious undertone to his voice, strange for the game he was calling stupid less than an hour ago.

Louis raises his eyebrows and can’t help but turn to Niall next to him who is simply staring, wide eyed and wait… is he blushing?

Louis smirks and looks back at Zayn who is grinning now, the life flowing back into his perfect features. Yes, Louis is acutely aware that his best friend should be a Vogue model, he doesn’t blame Niall for staring, it is _not_ the same as how he happens to keep glancing at Harry who is still struggling with his press ups. It isn’t.

“Ooh get it, Zayn,” Harry says approvingly through heavy breaths.

Zayn just chuckles softly, smoothly shifting his eyes away from their (possibly) sexually frustrated Irish friend, leaning forward and spinning the bottle.

It lands on Harry.

Harry collapses in a heap with a heavy sigh. “Thank fuck,” he mumbles as he sits up again, rubbing his biceps. “Lay it on me.”

“Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?” Zayn reads.

Louis _feels_ the enthusiasm leave his face. _Why._

Harry grins softly. “Because I was only in Spain for two more days.”

“Ah,” Niall points. “Dante, I remember him. He was fun.”

_Dante?_

“Who’s Dante?” Liam asks. Thank you, Liam.

“Harry’s Spanish boyfriend. They really only knew each other for, like, two weeks but yeah. He was cool.” Niall answers.

Louis doesn’t know how he can feel Harrys eyes on him, burning into him, but he pointedly looks away when Louis looks up. He isn’t sure why. It’s not like any of this bothers him.

The bottle points to Louis next.

“Describe your worst date ever.” Harry reads. The words roll off of his tongue slowly, breaking at the end.

Louis knows why.

He lets his eyes fall to the carpet. “Well, I’m not sure if this counts, but it was kind of bad for two reasons. One, he forgot about the date completely, and two… I caught him cheating on me with one of my closest friends. So.”

Okay.

Okay so it’s really quiet.

He risks a glance up at the eyes gazing at him, all but Harrys. He’s staring at the wall, his eyes glazed over, steely, and expressionless. Louis feels his gut sink profoundly.

“Well, shit,” Niall finally says into the silence. “Sorry, mate.”

“Yeah.”

“Shitty friend.”

“… Yeah.”

And then Harry is getting to his feet. “I, um. I’m just getting some fresh air,” he says and walks out of the room.

Louis sighs, long suffering. No one else seems to notice. They’re all clearly trying to lift the mood from where Louis left it on the floor.

“Might go have a smoke,” Louis mumbles under his breath and leaves in the direction Harry went.

He finds him outside.

He’s sitting on an old swing set next to the house, legs hanging idly, suede boots dragging along the wood chips, eyes up at the stars. Louis lets out a steady breath as he walks over and sits on the swing next to him, finding it a little more difficult to reach the ground with his shorter legs.

He holds onto the chains that hold up the swing, tilting his head towards the sky as well, wondering if he could wish hard enough and disappear up there. Be with the stars. It seems like a nice alternative at the moment.

The nighttime breeze is cold against his skin, but it’s not too much. He sways on the swing, his head is just starting to settle down from too much drinking and secrets and Harry. He somehow feels more levelheaded being outside, the stars help, even if the world is too massive and not there purely to cater towards Louis’ every need, it helps to clear through the fog in his head.

So, okay. Here goes.

“Harry, I–“

“Louis–“

Harry stops when he does.

Louis smiles wearily. “You go.”

Harry nods, looking at him. “I don’t think either of us are in the right head-space to talk how we should right now but… about _that_. I really– I didn’t–“

“I know, Harry,” Louis says before Harry gives himself a headache. “Oh, man. This is fucked up. You know that, right?”

Harry chuckles weakly. “I don’t think words can truly cover it.”

Louis smiles down at the ground. “No, I don’t think they can.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, just the swings creaky slightly, leaves whipping and rustling. Louis thinks, if he’s really quiet, he could hear Harry’s heart beat.

It’s probably all in his head.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says quietly.

Louis presses his eyes closed for a moment, before opening them and adjusting to Harry’s face. Soft, sincere, real. His brain has gone fuzzy, he can’t even hear his own thoughts. It’s all him, it’s always him.

Louis sighs. Looks at the stars.

“Yeah,” He says, lips cold against the wind. “Me too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this took me forever to write, but here it is!  
> The song Backseat Serenade by All Time Low inspired a certain part :)  
> 

Harry keeps checking his phone.

He keeps checking his phone _while_ he’s driving, and Louis is getting particularly tired of swatting his hand away.

“You’re trying to kill us, aren’t you?”

“Of course, that’s _exactly_ what I’m doing _._ ” Harry says, a tiny curve in his mouth, barely there for a second, the van slowing down as they drive past kids getting onto a school bus. “Sorry. I’m just – it’s… not important.”

Louis watches him for a little while longer, but he keeps quiet after that.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat of the van while Harry drives them to uni. Harry, with his odd far away eyes and furrowed brows, one hand clutching loosely to the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear stick, his body pliant yet rigid somehow. It’s all very strange, to say the least, for a multitude of reasons, but the only one that Louis can really focus on is that he’s struggling to actually focus altogether. There’s music playing from the shitty radio, but he’s not able to pay enough attention to hear the song that’s playing, not before his thoughts go wild and hazy.

He can’t stop thinking, is the thing. His head is still slightly dizzy and reeling from the night before, he doesn’t think it should have meant anything, but of course it meant _everything,_ and he can still feel Harry’s words in his skin and his bones, in the spaces where they shouldn’t be – the spaces where there’s only room for Harry.

They didn’t say much else while they were out on the swings, the night was settling over them and Liam was calling their names – Louis stood up and nodded towards the house and Harry followed, both with heavy eyes, heavy hearts, so much left unsaid, and so much Louis didn’t know how to say.

When he and Zayn got back to their flat, Zayn leant against his shoulder, smelling of alcohol and mumbling something about wanting to know what he and Harry actually were “ _back then_. _”_ He didn’t seem all too satisfied with Louis saying: “well, we were friends… then we just weren’t,” but the boy was wasted and tired and frowning for some reason, and Louis doubts any of last nights events will stick with him.

And then there was this morning.

Which. Louis isn’t sure he can deal with how confusing things are becoming, like. There are a multitude of people Louis would have preferred to see when he woke up, but Harry, there, sitting on the armchair in the corner of his room, flipping through a book like some creep. What the fuck? (Louis completely ignored the brief moment of panic he had at the thought that Harry had stayed the night without his knowledge, but no, the boy was fully clothed, composed expression, boot covered feet crossed on the edge of the bed.)

“How long have you been there?” Louis murmured suspiciously, sleepiness still prominent in his voice. He let his eyes close again.

Harry snapped his book shut, leaving it on Louis’ shelf. “Not long,” he said––as if that’s at all reassuring––and swung his legs off the bed, wandering over to Louis. “Came to wake you up, Liam said I should give you a lift.”

Louis opened one eye. “Is he not coming to class?”

“He’s a lightweight,” was all Harry said, and Louis remembered the copious amounts of alcohol Liam had showered himself in while they played their silly games and talked rubbish, stumbling off to bed insisting the room was spinning, clutching onto valuables until all four of them had rushed up to give him a hand.

Louis made a disgruntled noise, pushed off the covers and got out of bed, immediately falling back down when the room swayed. Or maybe he was swaying. No, it’s definitely the room. “Whoa.”

His head was burning, which is unsurprising given the circumstances, and he pressed his eyes closed, feeling Harry’s hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “You’re hungover. And you look like a dying hedgehog.”

Louis didn’t have the energy to respond, settling for a glare instead.

He made another attempt at standing up, with Harry’s hand holding him in place, and then coerced Harry into making him tea while he put on a pair of pants. He was midway through pulling on a shirt when Harry returned with a steaming cup, his eyes falling oh so subtly to Louis’ waist, lingering there, and Louis tried not to think anything of that as he tugged his shirt down.

They never mentioned the previous night, and Louis is foolishly hoping Harry had somehow forgotten about it completely, even though everything still burns crystal clear in his own memory. Like it always does. He just isn’t good at those conversations, he’s good at them with people he’s known for two weeks because he can lie and make up shit and no one can tell him otherwise, but with Harry it’s like his tongue gets caught in his throat and if he tries to say too much he’ll choke. He can’t fucking lie when all he wants to do is talk to him. And that’s just –– no.

So yeah, he hopes Harry doesn’t remember. Especially the whole proposal thing, seriously, what even was that?

Slipping on his hoodie, they trudged quietly past Zayn’s room–– where he’ll probably be asleep for the next five years—and into the kitchen, and he was resolutely not watching the way Harry watched him from across the room, hips arched forward, shoulders against the wall where Zayn leaves post-its of things to remember to do, household things like laundry and groceries – ‘ _get more brush cleaner’, ‘URGENT:_ _out of coffee!!’ –_ Harry had his broad shoulders all over it.

Ugh.

“I feel sick.” Louis had finally managed, leaning against the kitchen island, and Harry rolled his eyes and made eggs on toast. They ate together, in a strangely comfortable conversation-less silence while the radio hummed through the room. Harry turned his nose up at the horrendous pile of dishes next to the sink afterwards, and wouldn’t let Louis leave without tidying up. Of course Louis refused, and ended up sitting on the breakfast bar swinging his legs and unwittingly ogling Harry's arse while he put the plates away, pestering him with silly questions and probably being a pain. Harry didn’t complain though, as much as he seemed like he wanted to. Louis watched him swing the dishcloth over his shoulder as he put away a few coffee cups, and he can imagine that, in theory, this would be a nice thing to do with someone every morning.

In theory. Or in some far off alternate universe where doing these things didn’t leave room to assume anything else, to expect anything further.

He snaps back to bleak reality when they pull up at uni, Harrys’ phone still going off, but he hasn’t tried to check it again.

It’s such a beautiful day, and there’s really nothing but Louis’ self-imposed bitterness bringing his mood down. The morning was good, it was fine, nothing special. Is he a tiny bit anxious about how comfortable things are getting with Harry? Yeah, sure he is. But that was kind of expected, really. And he has got everything under control.

He gets out of the van, taking in a deep breath, and exhaling a lazy plume of air out into the cold world.

. . .

The rest of the day is, in Louis’ humble opinion, an odd fucking mess.

Their lecture is business as usual––irrelevant discussions, slides of new studies, Harry’s cologne, their arms brushing, quiet suffering–– it ends with one unfortunate student’s question that sets Professor Reynolds into an hour long tangent. Needless to say, Louis now knows more about Meerkats than he’s ever cared to.

He follows Harry afterwards. Why? He doesn’t know, it sort of felt like an unspoken invitation when Harry said he wanted to go see Niall, and Louis had some time before his next class so he followed him to the music rooms. They find Niall, sitting on a couch near the back of the room, head down in a notebook, pen scribbling. His face absolutely lights up when he sees them, but there’s an edge to his smile, and Louis pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Lads!” Niall calls, shuffles over a little to accommodate for them, Harry sitting in the middle and Louis on the other end, attempting to control his face, something to come across as composure. “Thank god, I needed an excuse to procrastinate.”

“You shouldn’t _be_ procrastinating, Niall. This is due in, like, two days.” Greg says out of nowhere, setting a guitar down as he walks into the room, smiling at them and pulling up a chair next to Louis. “Hey, Louis.”

“Hey.” Louis says, noticing Niall getting Harry to read over something in his notebook. “How are you?”

“I’m very well, it’s good to see you here.”

And Louis just shrugs, cause like, what is he even doing here? “Harry wanted to see Niall, so.”

“Right. Right, yeah.” Greg says. “So, tomorrow. Are you free?”

Oh.

Louis might take a moment to respond. But hey, he’s the _most_ casual person in the room. Totally.

“Harry and I have to work on an assignment in the morning but… I’m free in the afternoon?”

“Cool. I’d love to take you out,”

“Take me out?”

“Yeah, like a date? I promise it’ll be fun, I get the vibe that you’re a bit apprehensive all of that so we don’t even have to call it that. We’ll just see a movie. It’ll be good?”

Louis clears his throat. “Alright, I’m holding you to that though,”

And Greg beams. “Great. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah.” Louis says, just as Niall is sitting up to grab a whipped cream and caramel-topped monstrosity in a Starbucks cup off of a table. He’s got no shoes on, Louis notices, just socks, bright coloured socks covered in black and yellow bumblebees.

“You guys should stay, we’re rehearsing our set in a few minutes.” Greg says, bringing his arms above his head as he stretches, arching his back, the hem of his shirt riding up.

“I would,” Louis says. “But I’ve got class soon,”

Niall and Greg then tilt towards Harry who promptly answers, “promised Liam I’d give him a lift to work.”

Niall’s shoulders slump, lip dropping further as he leans against the table, mouth on his green straw.

“You can show off your skills on your birthday.” Harry says earnestly.

Louis is momentarily dumbfounded, before being dragged back into a memory from the previous night, while he and Zayn were walking out the door, Niall drunkenly slurring something about his own party in – either a few weeks or a few days, Louis missed that part. Whatever. He’s sure he can handle another birthday, though he doubts it’ll be as quiet as Liam’s.

“That is true,” Niall says, pointing to Harry. “Greg, you’re coming right?”

“Yeah, if I’m invited.”

“Course you are mate.”

“Everyone is, apparently.” Harry says, almost quietly, and Louis feels a shiver. Harry turns to him. “So, okay. Louis, we should probably…”

“Yeah. Right.”

“See you tomorrow, Louis.” Greg says as he’s heading out the door.

“Yeah. See you.”

“So,” Harry says, once they’re out of the room. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Movie. With Greg. Just hanging out.” He doesn’t know why he needed to clarify that last point.

“Huh? Like a date?”

“It’s not _really_ a date–“

He’s suddenly being pulled into an empty classroom, the door slamming closed behind them, his back being pressed against a wall, Harry’s hands all over him in the blink of an eye. Louis should push him off. He should at least _try_ to.

But he doesn’t, and before he can even fathom what's happening, Harry is pressing his hot mouth onto Louis’ neck, not biting, just sucking wet kisses onto his skin, sending impossible jolts of heat down Louis’ spine until he’s practically writhing beneath his touch, unable to catch his breath, he doesn’t even feel _awake,_ but it feels kind of… okay. Oddly okay. Should this feel okay? Probably not. But Louis definitely loses it, feeling Harry’s tongue slide over his neck, lips sucking gently at the sensitive skin, hands curled around Louis’ waist, bodies pressed flush together, hips grinding softly, close, dangerously close.

“Um. What are you doing?” Louis wonders suspiciously, slightly breathless.

Harry lifts his head, licking his lips, eyes half-lidded and hooded. “Fuck me.”

Louis’ breath catches in his throat, his chest freezing in the way it always seems to around Harry – even though he’s not entirely surprised, or, additionally, he’s come to expect this from Harry – he can’t just _spring_ this on him out of nowhere. Louis attempts to slap Harry’s hands away from his waist but they just slide down to his arse instead.

“I swear to god, Harry.” Louis lets out in a raspy breath. “No more public sex with you, I still have yet to get you back for that.” He takes a long, unsteady breath and determinedly tries to ignore the hands moving over the lower half of his body. “Besides, as previously stated, I have another class soon.”

Harry doesn’t seem to be paying attention at all, biting his bottom lip as his gaze slips down, eyes flitter low on Louis’ face, just _looking_ at him with a strange kind of intensity.

“As fun as that sounds,” Harry says, almost whispering the words in hot breaths against Louis’ mouth, pressing his hips against him one last time before letting him go and taking a step back. “I’ll be in my van for the next twenty minutes,” he says, backing away towards the door.

“Good for you,” Louis mumbles, still short of breath, his body tingling all over as he tries to regain some composure, his insides feel like they’re unraveling.

Harry pouts, annoyingly so, making a heart with his fingers, the edge of his mouth curving upwards as he leaves the room.

Louis really shouldn’t. If anything, he should at least wait longer than ten minutes before bolting out of the building and heading towards the artfully decorated van. It’s absolutely appalling – he’s now _skipping class_ for this boy, muttering “you’re a terrible influence,” as he climbs in.

Harry has tilted back the backseat, lying on his back, shirt off, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles and he barely lifts his head to look at Louis as he gets in, eying Harry suspiciously just because.

“What? It’s hot,” is all Harry says. And it is. So that’s the only reason Louis decides to slip out of his own shirt too, as he proceeds to work Harry out of his incredibly tight jeans.

. . .

Zayn is just getting out of bed when Louis gets home, he's got a cup of coffee in hand, his dark, usually immaculate hair a fright, it’s sticking up and outwards and there are bags under his eyes. He greets Louis with a grunt, which is sufficient, and then disappears back into his room.

Louis spends a good ten minutes wondering where all of their food went to before opening the door to their neighbours house. Niall is sitting on the carpet, legs crossed, back hunched over as he types something into his laptop, his guitar resting to the side of him, and he doesn’t even seem the slightest bothered by Louis’ unannounced entering (or very aware of it) and Louis greets him with: “we have no food, so… hi,” raiding their kitchen, ending up with a bowl of Harry’s ice cream doused in chocolate sauce, and clearing a space next to Niall.

Niall ends up asking his opinion on a few demos he’s working on, despite Louis’ protests insisting that he has literally zero knowledge about music production, “but,” Niall says as he scoops some of his ice cream on the tip of his finger (instantly turning his nose up at it’s lack of “sweet”) “you’re my friend and your opinion is important,” and Louis doesn’t know what the hell he even says as feedback but Niall assures him it’s helpful as he taps away at his laptop.

An hour or so passes, and Niall slams his laptop lid down, “I don’t really feel like cooking tonight, want to come help me order pizza?”

Louis agrees, hopping into the passenger seat as Niall blasts one of his songs, complaining about certain parts and bragging about others, and while he goes in and orders, Louis snoops of course, and finds a few loose photographs of Harry, Niall and Liam in the glove box.

He pulls them out slowly, as if he’s holding a delicate relic, and he feels odd – like he shouldn’t be looking, even though he knows they won’t mind. They’re at some beach in the photographs, Niall taking selfies with all of them, bronzed sun-kissed skin, Liam in a wetsuit and Harry in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt covered in tacky palm trees, less tattoos than he has now but still enough for his skin to look like art. He has sunglasses pushing his hair back––he’s probably got another pair hidden away somewhere for actual sunglass purposes like the pretentious bastard he is––and like, he’s smiling. Right. He’s smiling properly. And sure, he’s smiled like that since they’ve re-known each other, but it’s not the same. He doesn’t know why, but it isn’t.

Harry used to be all dimpled and excited about life and the future, he’d throw popcorn into the air and try to catch it in his mouth, but he always missed, and he’d make terrible jokes, literally the _worst,_ but Louis laughed anyway as if it were the funniest thing he’d heard. Silly and naïve but always with the best intentions.

He hasn’t changed too much, but Louis can’t pretend that things aren’t different, that none of it hurt him. He’s spent too long building the protective wall around himself, he can’t let this boy in – this boy in the photographs, smiling, shielding his eyes from the sun even though he’s got a pair of fucking sunglasses on his head – he’s _too much._ He’s always just too much.

Louis puts the photos back, he needs to catch his breath.

Niall sits back in the drivers seat while they wait for their order, cracking open a can of Coke he must have bought while he was in there and taking a sip, holding it out to Louis who takes it between his fingers, cold condensation against his skin.

“So,” Niall says, reaching down and turning off the radio as Louis passes back the Coke. “I’m going to ask you something, and you can totally choose whether or not you want to answer.”

“Shoot.”

“You and Harry… I feel like we’re missing something there.”

Louis definitely stops breathing. Or. Like, he doesn’t remember how.

“Like, back in high school. You didn’t just hate each other for stupid reasons, it was something else, right?” Niall goes on to say, and Louis exhales a choked sigh of relief, the tightness in his chest expanding a little.

“Something like that.” Louis answers uneasily.

Niall stares out the windshield, at the families taking their own pizza orders, at the sun peaking through the clouds. “You don’t have to tell me, I assume you’re both being quiet about it for a reason. I just wanted to clarify that things are better between you two now, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “I s’pose.”

“Because like, I don’t like to stick my nose into Harry's business, but he’s got a lot going on, up here,” he taps at the side of his temple, “and I feel like, it’s important that we’re careful. He’s not a baby, I’m not trying to coddle him, but he’s family, yeah? And you’re spending a lot of time with him, and I… I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Louis looks out the window. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, he’s fragile. He cares too much, which, you probably know that, and that he puts on a brave face because he’s always had to protect himself I guess. I mean, when I met him, it was clear he was running away from something, and I’ve never pressed for it because I figure he’ll tell me when he’s ready. He keeps it bottled up and, just– Louis, I love you mate, but if things get bad between you two again–“

“Niall–“

“I just. I really think it’s helping him to have all of us there, like, we’re all getting on and whether or not he’s using that as a distraction, I don’t know, but I do think he’s been happier. God, he’d probably hate me for saying all of this, especially when I don’t know much about it m’self, I just – I mean it, Louis. If you hurt him, we can’t be friends.”

“That’s blunt, but okay.”

“ _Louis_ ,”

“Yeah, I get it. I like being your friend and I don’t intend on hurting Harry, I don’t, I promise.”

“Good.” Niall says, breathing steadily, holding the air still between them. “Sorry, that sounded a bit like the kind of conversation a father would give to a future son in law,”

Louis snorts. “You’re a fucking knob.”

“I love you too.” Niall says, seeming to be easing back into himself. He squeezes Louis’ knee. “I think the pizzas are ready.”

Louis nods, watches Niall get out of the van, and uses the solitude to catch his breath. He swears he won’t pry any further into this Harry situation, but he’s confused more than anything, it doesn’t make sense. Harry was solid, his home life was solid as far as Louis knew. He doesn’t know when or how that could have changed.

Yes, the day is shaping up to be a big fucking mess.

. . .

When they arrive back at the house, stacks of pizzas inside their respective greasy pizza boxes, Zayn and Liam are sitting at opposing ends of the dining table, Harry in the middle, his eyes flickering between the two of them intently, both boys with a glass of red wine in front of them.

Louis dumps the pizza boxes, eyes following this whole scenario amusedly. “This looks interesting,” he says slowly, sinking down next to Harry.

Harry breaks into a wide grin when he notices his presence. “Neither of them have had a glass of wine before, and they both tried some just before and looked as though they were about to vomit. It was quite funny.”

“The determination is real,”

“It’s fucking gross but it’ll grow on me right?” Liam asks skeptically.

“Why is this happening, exactly?” Louis asks curiously.

“Well,” Zayn says, “because it’s _someone’s_ birthday soon–“ Niall’s cheer from the kitchen interrupts him, and his lips turn upwards slightly, “we got onto the subject of birthdays and what Harry and I wanted to do for ours, and Harry’s was very specific.”

Louis turns on his side, taking in Harry’s profile. “A wine tasting?”

Harry presses his lips together, fighting a grin. “No,”

Louis taps at his lips, contemplating. “You want to bathe in glorious pools of rich red wine with virgin sacrifices?”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “What the fuck, Lou?”

“I can come up with more.”

“Please, don’t.” Harry says, and there’s a tiny quirk to his lips. “If you must know,” his tone is wistful, and like this is such an inconvenience. “There’s this place I used to drive to back home, it’s just an old hill on the edge of the city, overlooking everything and around my birthday, at a certain time of night, the fog would blanket the city and the lights would glow beneath it, which is sort of really magical. So. I want to drive up there in a shitty rental truck, with you lot obviously, and sit on the back in fancy suits, drinking red wine under the stars.”

Louis swallows, his chest aching somewhere deep. “Posh, Styles.”

“That’s me.”

“Also, does the rental truck have to be shitty?”

“Yes. Essential, for the _feel_ of it.”

Louis shakes his head, muttering, “good god,”

Liam swirls the glass, looking down at it pointedly. “So, in order to fulfill Harry's wishes, we have to get ourselves to drink wine, and it’s vile.”

“But necessary.” Harry chimes in.

Liam nods, looking at Harry with a sort of fondness that makes Louis’ heart swell. “Absolutely necessary.”

Louis turns his attention to Zayn, and he’s feeling an odd sense of familiarity at Zayn turning his nose away in distaste, it’s been a while since he’s seen Zayn be disinterested in anything related to these boys. “Zayn, c’mon I thought you were posh? Isn’t this what you hipster artists drink while you lean back in your patchwork armchairs and discuss that Kadinsky fella–“

“It’s _Kandinsky,_ and we don’t– I wish you wouldn’t stereotype me like that. Besides… that’s more of a warm apple cider kind of discussion,” he almost seems annoyed at himself for having to add that last part.

“Oh my god,”

Liam tentatively lifts the glass to his mouth and takes the tiniest sip known to man, and Louis snorts a laugh at the way his face scrunches up. “You’re cute,” he says, patting Liam’s hand across the table. “Look, I’ll do it with you. Harry?”

“Yes please.”

Louis walks back in with glasses, setting one down in front of him and Harry, which Harry generously fills, and they all shift outside to the porch as the sky gets streaked in dark purples, clouds spilling over the moon and shrouding the stars, the porch light flickering on, moths bumping into it blindly. They eat pizza and listen to some of the assorted records Harry and Niall acquired over their travels on a dusty record player, talking loudly, and tiredly, drifting into a soft silence until there’s nothing but red stained empty glasses on the table and heavy eyes.

The others go off to bed but Harry stays up with Louis and they eat ice cream on the couch and watch the late night talk shows. Worry slowly eats away at him, worrying about Harry, about what Niall said, worrying that Harry might say things, might bring up things he isn’t ready to talk about. But he doesn’t. And Louis promises himself he’ll talk to him about this, soon _,_ he will _._

. . .

“He definitely did it.” Harry says for the third time, pointing at a guy on the screen while they watch _Criminal Minds_ in the lounge.

Louis has his feet tucked up on the couch, head resting on his fist, a bowl of popcorn between them. Zayn, Niall and Liam had left an hour ago, Zayn pulling them all over the city for some street art event, and he and Harry decided to stay home and study because their submission due date is tomorrow. Of course, the weather is bleak, which led Harry to insist it was a binge-watching sort of day instead, and Louis wasn’t about to complain when Harry let him choose what they watch, curling up on the couch and nudging his cold feet against Harry's calves for no particular reason.

The day wears on quickly, and in the same completely platonic manner, which is surprising, being alone with Harry doesn’t usually include a lot of that. They make sloppy tacos for lunch, Harry bringing over ingredients from next door because Louis and Zayn are terrible and never have any food. They eat cross-legged on the floor so they don’t spill any on the couch, Harry taking their plates to the sink, tossing him a drink when he comes back and sliding in the next disc once they had finished season eight (Louis had to start from where Harry was up to, which was rather inconvenient in his opinion.)

It’s much later in the day when Harry finally leaves, saying he has “things” to attend to, and it’s timed perfectly, really, because Louis’ phone vibrates as he’s heating up leftovers in the microwave, Greg, reminding him about their _engagement_.

His date (that is _not_ a date) with Greg goes well, like – he’s nice, yeah, and he’s funny, and Louis could definitely do worse – but he still can’t help but feel sort of subdued about the whole situation, which isn’t fair to Greg, but so far there’s been nothing to imply that it’s actually a date, and that sets him a little more at ease. There’s no candlelit dinner, they go to a movie, a sort of Liam Neeson style action film, lacking in romance, and enough jokes for Louis to feel more like when he watches movies with his mates, plus the added gore to really set the mood, thank goodness.

Greg does buy him dinner afterwards, dinner being fish and chips, and Louis feels warm inside when they go back to his apartment and eat around the coffee table and just talk and listen to music and yeah, he could really see himself being friends with Greg, he definitely could. Everything else is too messy.

He doesn’t say that, though, when Greg drops him off, or when he leans across the gear stick, and kisses him. Because Greg is also a very good kisser, and Louis didn’t have it in him to say any of the thoughts in his head. It didn’t last long, just a peck on the lips, and all Louis could give him in response was an awkward but chipper smile and wave as he headed into his own house, skin tingling with goosebumps and a weird, hollow feeling in his chest.

Zayn is looking ready to head out when Louis gets into the lounge, he’s sitting on the edge of the couch pulling on his boots. “Hey, how was it?”

Louis clears his throat. “Good. Saw that new movie about a guy on the run from the CIA, that was alright.”

“Nice, and Greg?”

“Hm? What about him?”

Zayn looks at him. “Louis, you went on a date for the first time in months with a guy who’s actually not out to fuck you and never speak to you again, _details_ ,”

“It wasn’t a date,” Louis enforces quietly, setting his keys down.

“Is that why he kissed you then?”

“How did you – don’t spy on me _Zayn_.” Louis says, falling exhaustedly onto the couch next to him.

“It’s my job.”

Louis sighs. “It wasn’t a date,” he says again.

“Okay…” Zayn says, quite clearly reading Louis like an open book, like he’s always able to, and standing up. “You coming next door?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah. Got a paper to submit before midnight.”

Zayn smiles and leans down, pressing his lips to the side of Louis’ forehead. “See, that is why you will be successful in life and I will be the weird friend that lives on your couch.”

Louis pats his shoulder. “Might be like that anyway, if you’re going for the whole starving artist thing,”

Zayn points at him. “You’ve got a point there,” he says with a quick smile, then glances at his phone that has not stopped vibrating this entire time. “Niall keeps texting me, I should head over, you good though?”

Louis nods, “m’ good.”

And so eventually Zayn disappears next door to drink himself silly with Niall and Liam (and maybe Harry, Louis is still unsure about his take on their parties.) He spends the next hour finishing a paper, managing to submit it with time to spare, so he rewards himself with a chocolate biscuit that Niall brought over this afternoon. He throws his empty crisps bag in the bin by his desk, leans back on his bed and switches on his phone – turned off incase of distractions – and he has one unread message from Harry.

_Harry: Are you over here or…_

It was received almost an hour ago. Oh.

_Louis: Had my phone switched off sorry. Anyway, you were saying?_

_Harry: Are you at home? Or are you still on your not-date?_

_Louis: Was that you inviting yourself over?_

_Harry: Yes._

_Harry: So…_

_Louis: Ask politely Harold._

_Harry: Oh my god._

_Harry: Louis Tomlinson, may I please come over and suck your dick?_

_Louis: Hm… I suppose._

. . .

Harry smells like vodka when he climbs on the bed next to Louis, and Louis pointedly wrinkles his nose. “How drunk are you, and will I be taking advantage?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, lifting his head from where it was resting on the pillow. “Not drunk. Some guy spilt his drink on me, I’ve been in my room bored out of my mind because _someone_ –“ he pokes Louis’ side, “didn’t text me back,”

Louis elbows him. “I was _studying_ , I think that’s reason enough.”

Harry sighs, over-dramatic. “I suppose,” he drawls, smirking. “So…”

“So?”

“How was Greg?”

“ _Oh._ Wondered how long it would take for you to bring that up,” he grins, meeting Harry's ever so expectant eyes. “It was fine?”

“C’mon,” Harry rolls over onto his stomach, resting his head on his fists. “Where are the juicy details?”

Louis dips his head at him. “We saw a movie, got dinner, _hesortofkissedme_ and then he dropped me off.”

“What was that?”

“He dropped me off?”

“No…”

“He sort of kissed me…”

Harry raises his eyebrows, glancing away disinterestedly, which is odd for his previous interest in said topic. “Really? Huh. That’s bold.”

“I suppose.” Louis shrugs. “It wasn’t really anything, I don’t know.”

Harry seems to be giving a lot of attention to the hem of his shirt. “Whatever, s’ none of my business.”

Okay.

Louis turns away awkwardly.

“Why do you have this?”

“Huh?” he glances back at Harry, to see him holding up a sleep mask he dug out of the drawers next to his bed. “Oh, we didn’t have curtains when we moved in. So.”

He watches Harry suspiciously as his face changes, thumb running over the black silk mask smoothly.

“I refuse to partake in your weird kinks, Harry.”

“It isn’t _that_ weird if I just want you to wear this.” Harry says sweetly, blinking innocently. Louis should not find that as hot as he does.

He drags his eyes away from Harry’s hands. “What don’t you want me to see, exactly?”

“Let me surprise you.” Harry says, licking his lips. He pushes himself up and straddles Louis’ lap, sitting up with the mask hanging from his finger. “It’ll just be me, nothing weird, I promise.” The words lick like a flame, and shoot straight down Louis’ spine.

Harry’s fingertips delicately dance along Louis’ exposed hip bones while he waits for his answer, tracing along the waistband of his jeans from his position on Louis’ lap. Hopeful, yet confident eyes peering down at him. Louis could get him to beg, easily, but he doesn’t need to. And it terrifies Louis how much he trusts him.

Fuck.

He doesn’t say a word as he reaches up and takes the mask out of Harry's hand, his dick twitches when the last thing he sees is Harry biting his bottom lip, before slipping the mask over his eyes and shutting the world out into pitch black.

There’s a bit of movement where Harry gets off his lap, and Louis has to battle with the temptation to peek at him before the mattress dips again. Harry’s back on him, but he doesn’t feel the fabric of his jeans against Louis’ own, so he assumes Harry’s naked. Naked Harry. On him. And he can’t even enjoy the view.

“This isn’t fair.” He finds himself saying as Harry’s hands play with the hem of his shirt. “You’re naked and crawling all over me and I’m not allowed to look.”

“That’s all part of the fun, Lou.” Harry’s voice is silky and Louis can hear him grinning. It goes straight down to his cock. “Now be quiet, would you? Or I might just leave you here.”

Louis complies.

Harry takes his shirt off first, feeling the cool air brisk against his chest as Harry runs his fingers along his skin, and he’s already shuddering under his touch, writhing in anticipation and the slightest hint of nerves. It feels good though, it always feels good with him.

He pulls his pants off then, and Louis almost melts when he feels Harry's bare thighs against his own. He should feel vulnerable, or exposed, but there’s something else sparking inside of him instead, it feels like excitement.

And then he feels Harry’s warmth against his stomach, his lips placing kisses from just below the bellybutton and all the way up to his neck, dragging over his abs like electric sparks, mouthing his collarbones, sucking on his throat. There’s a flush of hot air and then his wet tongue is sliding over the curve of his neck, just below the jawline, his nose nudging into his cheek. _Close._ Holy shit.

It’s a slow, drawn out, _teasing_ process and Louis is already growing desperately hard. Harry's hand moves down to his swollen cock, slick with precome, and he starts to jerk him off while he keeps his mouth on his neck, kissing and nipping slightly, his hand building up a rhythm.

Louis groans, his hips jerking a little in anticipation. He feels Harrys chest press against his own, prickles of sweat already building, his mouth moving nonstop, occasionally sending small pinches of pain, but it’s a good amount, enough to make his cock twitch every so often and his skin flush with goosebumps. Harry pays extra attention to a spot just above his collarbone, and Louis knows it’s going to bruise tomorrow. He hopes it’ll be a cold day.

Harry stops, releasing Louis’ throbbing cock from his hand, breathing heavily just above Louis’ mouth. He can feel the warm puffs of air mixing in with his own, he wonders how close Harry is to his lips. How far he’d have to lean before they’d be kissing, he doubt’s it’s much of a distance.

Harry is gone too quickly though, and Louis finds himself panting, sucking in cold air, the absence of where he was. He keeps his lips parted.

It isn’t dead quiet because of the music next door, pulsing through the house, and Louis is sort of grateful for that because he’s sure his heart is beating way too fucking loud when he feels Harry run his hands down his sides, one hand still wet from jerking him off. And, softer than ever, he feels a brush of warm air against his inner thigh, where Harry’s mouth is just barely touching him. This is so _different_ to anything they’ve done. Louis doesn’t know what’s happening but he’s not exactly opposed to it, this mask might be Harry’s best idea yet.

Harry’s lips brush against his thigh again, teasing him, and Louis lets out a broken moan. He jerks his hips forward a bit, wondering why Harry is being so delicate with him, wondering why it’s turning him on so much.

“This is your excuse to be a fucking tease, isn’t it?” Louis manages.

“You seem to like it.” Louis can hear him smirking, _why is that such a fucking turn on_?? Good god. “Do you want me to go faster?” Harry asks, almost in a whisper, his mouth pressed gently to the lower regions of Louis’ torso. “Tell me what you want,”

Louis can barely breathe, his heart is racing as Harry toys with him, teases him, and he doesn’t even know what pleasure _he_ gets out of this. “No.” His voice comes out strained, broken. “No, just– just do what you’re doing– fucking driving me crazy.”

He spreads his legs wider though, and Harry wraps his fingers around his cock, just brushing at first, and then his thumb presses in small circles, feeling like blazing electric currents pulsing through him. Louis bites down on his lip harshly, squirming beneath him, groaning desperately.

“Shhh,” Harry says softly, moving back up and pressing his lips to his neck again, Louis feels like he’s going to explode. His throbbing cock is aching and Harry’s mouth hasn’t even been on it yet. Harry’s hands find his own, and this draws his attention to the fact that his hands are in fists, gripping onto the duvet without his knowledge. Harry makes him relax them, lacing their fingers together instead. It feels oddly intimate. But it’s okay.

He places a soft kiss to Louis’ throat, and then moves back down, keeping their hands locked together. Louis’ cock is hard where it lies on his stomach, begging for Harry’s mouth, agonizing – _incredible._

He’s barely given a moment to catch his breath before Harry’s mouth is on him.

He just takes the head between his lips at first, sucking gently as Louis groans and jerks his hips in response. His tongue swirls slowly, and then he sinks further down, taking him in his throat, pulling back up and letting his tongue run up the side of his length.

“F-fuck–“ Louis chokes, picturing himself floating on a cloud right now rather than his bed, everything is dark and all he can feel is Harry and yeah, that is somehow completely okay.

“You like it, don’t you?” Harry says, and fuck his voice is _wrecked._ “Like to be teased.”

He’s properly digging his fingers into Harry's now, and manages a quick nod before Harry is taking him back down in his throat, swallowing him down and taking his time while Louis squirms and juts beneath him. Then he pulls off at the last second.

He always pulls off right before Louis is about to burst, smoothing his hands over Louis’ each time then sinking down as far as he can go before he starts to choke, leaving Louis writhing, trembling, panting and squeezing his hands until they’re white. Harry moans around him, and that sends Louis shaking to his core, its muffled, so Louis can only imagine how far down his throat he is. He lets out a whimper so fucking strange he almost doesn’t think it came from him, his blood starts to boil and in the pitch black all he can see is stars and galaxies.

Harry finally accommodates to where this is going, and picks up the pace, his mouth quickening around his cock, and Louis doesn’t even feel himself squeeze tighter on his hands, but his toes curl and he loses any and all control he thought he had over himself. Harry just _knows_ what to do to him, to make him like this. He moans again, sounding all kinds of desperate.

He comes unexpectedly, letting out a loud gasp as it bursts out of him, and he hears Harry cough as he pulls back, feels it splatter onto his abs. The orgasm rips through him, and he feels his hands tighten and relax in just a few passing moments. Harry licks up the head again, cleaning up the remaining come, his tongue swirling over him, and he starts to breathe again.

And well, Louis wants to taste what he tastes like on Harry's tongue.

But it’s over too soon, because Harry releases his hands from Louis’ death grip and he’s leaning over him, slowly his fingers slip under the mask, (Louis could be imagining that his hands are shaking,) and he’s sliding it off of Louis’ head.

Louis has to squint against the light, even though the room is dark.

Harry is right above him, lips swollen and shining wet, chest heaving, eyes glistening. Louis could definitely get used to seeing him like that.

“Was that good?” Harry asks hoarsely, an oddly innocent and hopeful look in his eyes for someone who just fucking devoured him.

All Louis can do is nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Harry exhales a heavy sigh and flops onto his back, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. Louis leans over him to grab a towel from the floor and wipe himself off, and when he lies back down he finds himself lying on Harry’s arm. They’re both sticky and hot, spreading exhaustion weighing down on them, just breathing. Just breathing and existing with each other.

“You can stay if you want, won’t get much sleep over there,” Louis mumbles sleepily without thinking.

There’s a beat of silence that follows, and Louis is suddenly wide awake – why did he say that? Fuck, he should just kick him out, like he even cares if Harry sleeps or not honest to god ––

“Okay. I’m stealing this pillow though, it’s soft.” Harry says casually, his voice slowly working back to normal as he snatches the pillow from Louis’ side and swaps it with the smaller one he was resting his head on.

Louis groans and attempts to take back his pillow. He fails. “You can’t just– _I’m_ the one who offered to let you stay!”

Harry shrugs, looking aggravatingly pleased with himself. “I’m a needy house guest,” he rests back on Louis’ bed, he hasn’t moved his arm away from underneath Louis and they’re still so close. Someone should move. And Louis is far too fucking lazy and comfortable to be the one to do it.

“House guest is one way to put it,” Louis mumbles blithely into Harry’s warm skin. He’s still shaking.

Had this been a different day, Louis would have only stayed in this position for a couple minutes, before mumbling a crude remark as one of them leaves, and then he’d shower and try to live his life as if none of it existed. He just doesn’t have the energy right now, not when he catches the flutter of Harry’s eyelids in the silver light of the moon, which oddly feels like more of an encouragement to drift off.

“That’s not very nice,” Harry mumbles sleepily.

Louis looks at him through heavy eyes. “Should probably wash off before we sleep… all gross…”

Harry yawns. “Yeah. S’ just your bed though.”

There’s a hint of a smirk in his voice as he shifts beneath him, and Louis initially thinks he’s moving away entirely, even goes to accommodate for that, but then Harry is on his side, arm still tucked snugly around Louis’ shoulders, his body entirely pressed against Louis’ side, steady breaths against Louis’ neck.

Louis might mumble something, but the words are lost quickly as he succumbs to sleep, falling into a steady breathing pattern with the boy beside him.

. . .

Louis wakes to hair in his mouth.

Which is fucking gross. Really. But he feels warm, though his tongue has an odd, stale taste to it and his body feels like it’s in dire need of a wash, he feels warm, his mind anchor-heavy and flitting over a dream.

He feels a body, half sprawled over him, one arm tucked beneath him cradling his shoulders while the other rests atop his hip, a hot chest pressed against his own, soft breath on his neck. Their legs are hooked together, skin slick and dirtied in dried come. Naked. Completely naked.

Harry, he realizes, solving the equation at last. And the thought is so instantly soothing, and somehow makes sense. He almost allows himself to close his eyes again. Of course it’s Harry, who else would it be?

… And then everything floods back, like a tidal wave to the forefront of his mind, surfacing into clarity. He snaps open his dry eyes, feeling his entire body tense, breath catching, taking in everything.

_Harry._

Shit.

His bleary mind wakes up in an instant, catching on the dim light coming through the closed curtains, the sun doesn’t seem to have risen yet, and he doesn’t know how he woke up before Harry did, but it isn’t like he can let them both wake up like this, naked and tangled in each other, like they’re fucking cuddling. This isn’t what they do, last night was barely what they do. A sort of ache seems to spread through him, grabbing him, pulling him under.

It had been so easy for him to forget, in the midst of it all, how much he’s missed this. Not _this._ When he knew Harry, they’d never done _this,_ they had woken up together though, but that was after nights stayed up awake and talking, because Harry didn’t want to go home and Louis didn’t know why because his family seemed perfect, a sort of unattainable level his own family could never reach. They’d look at the stars out of the window, the glowing lights, and they’d talk about what it meant but neither of them ever said too much, and that was okay, because Louis had thought that he’d be able to hold onto Harry – his friendship – for so much longer than he actually did, and that he’d be able to fill in all of those blanks before it all went to shit.

Fucking _hell._ Why does Harry make him feel so much? Why, after everything, is he still hurting over this boy? It washes over him, all at once, like a wave so strong it’s going to grab him and he won’t even be able to think before he’s drowning.

Louis swallows carefully, his chest aching in a panic, surging in on itself – _too comfortable, too much, too much_.

His eyes close again, even as he shifts, lifting his head in a slow, careful arc, sliding slowly along the sheets beneath Harry, feeling Harry's hair brush along his chest as he moves, reminding himself to keep breathing, reminding himself to be careful about how he does it, so he doesn’t wake him, so he doesn’t realize how good this is, and how fucking awful it is at the same time.

He’s able to ease his arm out from under Harry, and he’s fucking mad at himself because he doesn’t even think he _wants_ to, he’s looking down at Harry, his face peaceful and gorgeous and he can’t just let it sink in and be glad. He can’t just relax back down and wake up again with this fit boy that he’s regularly giving himself to, it’s absolutely maddening every time he tries to consider it. Like giving his heart to someone and getting it back bloodied and mangled wasn’t painful enough the first time, there’s no way he could ever have that with _Harry_ – that’s insane, it’s an insane thought and he’s furious at himself for considering it.

He’s been too distracted in his own thoughts to listen to the way Harry is breathing – the way his fingertips start to move just as Louis is in the middle of dragging his legs away, soft fingers brush over his hip, the top of his thigh, and Louis’ chest squeezes. He stills, watching Harry, _wanting_ Harry – a sleepy half-arousal beginning to muster, thoughts drifting, still painful, still ringing in his ears – completely, _completely_ overpowered by the curl of heat in his gut.

“Please stay,” Harry whispers, eyes fluttering open, his voice so soft Louis almost misses it.

He inhales deeply, his drawn out mission of trying to escape Harry deeming pointless, Harry pulls him back down, Louis closes his eyes, Harry shifts further onto him, mumbling “ _stay_ ,” again and again, dragging his lips over his throat, his collarbones, his chest. Louis repositions his legs, twisted in the duvet, immediately pliant for Harry, not saying a word, neither of them speaking, just soft, quiet, pleasure and praying that Zayn stayed next door.

But what are rational thoughts anyway?

“Haz,” he groans quietly, barely a whisper, looking down at Harry – or, the headful of messy hair that’s working down his stomach. He grinds his hips forward once, his hands finding Harry's hair, his muscles tensing beneath Harry's touch, until there’s nothing but blinding heat, until his world has succumbed to ragged breathing, and there’s nothing in his head anymore, and Louis mentally braces himself, ready to lose himself completely, ready to hold his breath and hope to god he doesn’t drown.

. . .

A shower, clean clothes and a cup of tea later, and Louis is sitting on his _made_ bed – because Harry is the kind of arsehole who makes the bed after sex – he’s texting the others, checking that Zayn didn’t die or anything at Niall’s party, considering the empty bedroom. Niall replies with a photo of Zayn asleep on the couch ‘ _he’s safe and sound, dnt worry, did Harry crash with u?’_

Louis gulps, wonders if it would be at all suspicious to word his text: ‘well, he’s with me but he’s not _with_ me’, so instead just replies with a smiley face and, ‘ _yup, he’s here.’_

He hears the shower shut off, and Harry walks in with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, just barely covering the edge of the fern tattoos there, hair dripping onto his shoulders, down his chest, eyes searching for his clothes strewn all over the room. Louis should have organized them while he was showering, so that he wouldn’t have to find his eyes glued to Harry as he picks up his jeans and shirt and socks and– fuck, how much does this boy _wear?_ It never seems like very much, that’s for fucking sure.

And then Harry lets the towel fall to the floor.

Which. Well. Louis could have really done without seeing that after the morning they’ve just had, after he spent a good portion of it trying to convince himself it means nothing, that Harry means nothing, that he’d be completely fine seeing him with someone else. It’s just plain rude for Harry to stand there, naked, bending down while he pulls on his pants, jeans fitting him like a glove, shirt loose and sitting on his shoulders perfectly, covering up his pale gold skin from the early morning lighting peeking through Louis’ curtains.

“Can I borrow a sweater?” Harry asks, and Louis jolts like he’s being woken up from a long slumber. “It’s cold outside.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, okay.” He gets up and digs through his drawers finding one of his more oversized ones to fit Harrys taller frame.

So now Harry is also wearing Louis’ clothes, fantastic.

They have leftovers for breakfast, reheating Tupperware containers and sitting on the porch under the cool shade of the awning, his legs crossed while Harrys are outstretched, leaning against the porch fence, watching as people start to leave the house next door, looking like they got hit by a truck. Solo cups scatter the grass, and the wind gets a bit much so they retreat back inside after Harry’s popped over next door to grab his laptop.

There are two empty mugs next to Louis’ bed and Harry’s lying with his back against the wall and his laptop on his lap, Louis occasionally taking it to fill in the missing pieces of their assignment, and by the noon, they’re done.

Harry makes them a platter of sandwiches for lunch – “as a reward for finishing before the deadline,” he had said, almost emitting bright shining rays of pride – and there’s quite the selection for Louis, different combinations of brie, relish, apricot sauce, pesto and Louis rolls his eyes at how over the top Harry is. They drink some of the Punch stolen from next door, sitting on the grass when the sun had finally broken through the clouds, talking about nothing in particular and somehow, by some great mystery, the conversation veers in the direction of family talk.

“So, how’s Lottie? And the twins? And Jay?” Harry asks, and Louis can tell he’s been wanting to ask that for some time by the weird sense of urgency in his voice.

Louis sighs, leans back on his hands. “They’re… fine. I haven’t seen them in a while, actually.”

“Why not?”

Louis shrugs. “Life, I guess. Happens to the best of us.”

Harry nods, his eyes are sort of far away and staring across at the fence separating them from their other neighbours, where vines and moss are eating up the bottom of it. “Yeah, I get it.”

Louis reaches forward, tearing at the grass around Harry’s side, keeping his voice tentative. “You never talk about your family.”

“I know,” is all Harry says, after a pause.

“Well,”

“What?”

“I don’t know, anything? How is everyone? Are they still breathing?”

He had meant it as a joke kind of, but Harrys jaw sets further, eyes growing darker. “Do we really need to talk about this?”

Louis looks away. “No, I guess not.”

Downing his glass, they find themselves back inside, cleaning up the kitchen, moving in such perfect harmony with Harry that it’s dizzying. It’s dizzying just being around him. Louis sighs, heavy, and puts down the tea towel after drying the last piece of cutlery, pressing a couple of fingers to the aching in his temples.

“Hey,” Harry says, voice quiet, leveled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re all–“ Harry gestures vaguely, “like, weird. Off.”

 _That’s a lot_ , Louis thinks, _coming from you_.

“I’ve just got a headache.” Which is actually true, he does.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, brows furrowing, looking at Louis intently.

Louis nods. “I actually– um. I have to head out.”

 _What_?

That was a lie and he doesn’t know why he said it.

Harry just frowns. “Louis–“

“Work– I have work.” Louis says quickly.

“You don’t work today.”

Shit. Of course Harry knows that.

“Jades sick, m’ covering her shift.” Louis adds hastily, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’ll, um. I’ll text you.”

“ _Louis_ –“

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah? Let yourself out, you know the drill,” Louis does a mock salute, not acknowledging the expression on Harry’s face, the one that reads: _“I don’t believe you,”_ and he hurries out the door.

He definitely doesn’t sit in the food court for the next couple of hours. He _doesn’t_.

. . .

“Snacks, snacks, snacks,” Niall sings, hurrying through the front door with grocery bags in his hands and disappearing into the kitchen shouting, “make yourselves comfortable!” behind him.

Louis laughs, shaking his head and jumping over the side of the couch, Zayn is at the other end, his body twisted to look behind to where Niall is, and there’s space in the middle, enough for two people, how they always seem to sit now. Liam has already made himself comfortable on the beanbag, a big fluffy purple blanket pulled around his shoulders.

So, Niall wants to make movie nights a thing.

It’s apparently something they should do, he informed Louis over a phone call while Louis was out profoundly avoiding Harry for no real rational reason, something they, as a group – or a _clique_ as Niall’s been calling them – should do to “ _bring their souls_ _closer together”_ , and Louis couldn’t help but snort at that phrasing, but he agreed to it anyway.

So yeah, movie nights. And themed ones at that. He’s starting the tradition off tonight, horror being their first genre. Great.

“You’ll love this.” Harry says with heavy sarcasm as he sits next to Louis on the couch, the odd atmosphere of the morning seems to have passed, and Harry is still wearing his sweater and Louis is really, really hoping Zayn doesn’t notice.

Louis sighs heavily. “Mm.”

“Louis.” Niall says, wandering back into the lounge and sliding a disc into the DVD player. “Louis, come on. We’re watching some classic slasher films, they’re fuckin’ gold.”

“It’s horror movies in general, they’re just–“ Louis scrunches up his face, “you know?”

“You literally haven’t changed.” Harry says, a hint of amusement in his voice, and Louis can’t help but notice Zayn turn to look at him when he says that, an odd expression on his face.

“Do they scare you or something?” Liam asks, as Niall walks back into the kitchen.

“No, they just generally tend to have weak storylines, and they’re predictable. _Oh no, who will save the promiscuous one-dimensional female character, could it possibly be the guy displaying the socially constructed masculine ideals?”_

Harry puts his hand to his heart. “You’ve been reading my book,” he says earnestly.

“Hey, a lot of movies these days are predictable, just got to let yourself enjoy them.” Liam says, ignoring Harrys comment.

“How do you know that anyway, Harry?” Zayn asks.

“We took a film class together in high school, had to do a group project and I kind of forced Louis to make a horror.”

“It was awful.” Louis adds. “I’m sure I told you about that, we had to stay in that creepy, apparently – _haunted_ house overnight to film.”

“Oh, I remember that. Didn’t know you guys did that together.” Zayn says, and there’s a slight crease forming between his eyebrows, but his attention drifts back to the screen.

Now that Louis thinks about it, he doesn’t think he ever mentioned Harry to Zayn in those early days, back when he’d come home from school and talk to Zayn on the phone for hours, it wasn’t until everything happened that Zayn even became aware of Harrys existence, and then mentioning their history before that didn’t seem so important. Or it all seemed too important. He isn’t sure.

He’ll definitely talk to Zayn about it later.

Niall hurries in with a bowl of M&M’s, switches off the lights and squishes in between Harry and Zayn, pushing Harry further into Louis’ space on the couch that is barely fit to accommodate three people. He pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch and drapes it over the lot them.

Liam scoops some out of the bowl and then sinks back down onto his beanbag, and it’s an incredibly amusing sight to see Liam completely wrapped in a blanket burrito with a face that’s as pale as ever. The movie is only at the harrowing opening music, vintage resolution shifting across the screen.

“Jesus fuck, how old is this?” Zayn asks.

Niall shrugs. “Dunno. It’s good though, apparently.”

“Apparently?” Liam asks.

“According to Google.”

“Oh joy.”

Louis puts his feet up on the same footrest that Harry is using, the entire side of their bodies are pressed together, he notices. Harry smells like fucking flowers, and he’s incredibly warm. Louis really doesn’t think about it.

They’re ten minutes into the movie when Louis decides he’s done. It has a basic plot, cardboard characters and – ah yes, the classic showering girl’s bloodcurdling scream as she gets impaled, followed by a scene of girls in skimpy lingerie, perfect murdering scenarios it would seem. Louis does wonder how many teenage boys the writers spoke to in order to conceptualize something so bland, but hey, he’s doing his best not to judge.

He pats Harry’s shoulder and leans in to whisper in his ear. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

Harry nods, shifts a little and their shoulders brush and Louis really, really doesn’t think about it.

When he opens his eyes again, after getting over the initial shock of being so close to Harry, he notices empty spaces where both Liam and Niall should be, though the screen is still playing the movie, and if the overuse of blood splatter is anything to go by, Louis is glad he chose to nap instead.

“Where’d they go?” he asks, sleepily, his throat feeling scratchy and he lets out a cough.

“Niall said he needed to show Liam something in his room, I dunno.” Zayn mumbles.

“Are they coming back?”

Harry shrugs. “Doubt it. They’re terrified of horrors.”

Louis frowns, and this catches Zayn’s attention too. “Niall chose the fucking movie, what the hell?”

“Can we go bother them?” Zayn asks.

They switch off the horror and wander down to Niall’s room, and okay. The sight they get when they open the door is truly something.

Niall and Liam are curled up on Niall’s bed under his duvet, the familiar sounds of _High School Musical 2_ playing from his TV. And after a long moment of just, well, _staring_ , Niall lifts the edge of the blanket. “Well, get in.”

They crowd Niall’s bed, somehow Louis ends up on the edge and still next to Harry, who – probably accidentally – has pulled the blanket further over Louis once he’s in properly, and that might also have something to do with the sneezing fit Louis had when they walked down the hall.

Louis feels odd. They’re really a little family, aren’t they? All trapped under Niall’s duvet, watching Zac Efron prance through a golf course, and Louis is, overwhelmingly, beginning to realize – without being disgustingly soppy – that he really fucking needs these silly, effervescent boys. Probably more than he’d care to admit, though he’d never say that to their faces, but he can feel the weight of his heavy heart against his ribs, and he leans further against Harrys shoulder. He thinks about how easy this is, imagines how easy it _could_ be, and that makes everything seem so drastically absurd, to feel so lost, and yet so sure all at once.

It doesn’t make sense, and Louis thinks maybe he could use a bit of that as he’s lulled by the warmth of the strange life he’s somehow fallen into, and he closes his eyes.

. . .

“Zayn, I think I’m dying.” Louis calls from his bedroom.

Yesterdays sneezing led to more sneezing, unsurprisingly, and a blocked nose, a throat as coarse as sandpaper and a very, very unhappy Louis. He’s been in bed the entire day while Zayn’s been at work and in class, only got back an hour ago.

Zayn comes in cradling a cup of tea, which he set's down next to Louis’ bed. “Here you go little prince. Are you sure I can go over next door? You don’t need me to dote on your every need?”

“Yeah,” Louis croaks, ignoring the sarcasm in Zayn’s voice and taking a sip of his tea. “Yeah I’m fine, just need to like, rest and stuff–” A sneeze escapes his throat before he can finish and Zayn jumps away quicker than Louis’ ever seen him move in his life.

“Jesus, don’t look at me like I have a fucking virus.”

“I don’t like sick people. It’s gross.”

“I apologize for my illness.” Louis says flatly.

Zayn smiles weakly, but affectionate. “I’ll um, I’ll get Niall to bring you some soup or something.”

“Okay. You do that. Such a good friend.”

Zayn doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s disappearing next door, Louis tugs the duvet further over himself. He’s in the middle of a coughing fit when Harry enters his room.

“Shit. You actually are sick.” Harry says, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes, I actually am.”

“Thought Zayn was just saying it as an excuse for something. But no, you look horrendous.”

“Thanks.”

“Like, more Hedgehog-y than usual.”

“Thanks.”

Harry holds up a Tupper ware container. “Niall made soup.”

Louis scrunches up his face. “I don’t really have an appetite right now.”

“I’ll put it in the kitchen then.”

Harry comes back up a few minutes later and sets a cup of honey and lemon tea down next to Louis’ bed, he sips it too soon and it burns his throat but he can already feel it clear his airways.

“Want me to stay?” Harry asks, after a moment.

Louis shakes his head. “I’ll just be sneezing and sleeping. Don’t want you to catch anything.”

“Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

Louis almost laughs, tugging his blankets up. “I’m fucking freezing, I don’t think it’s the kind that blankets can fix though, just got to wait till the fever comes.”

“I’ll get you a heat pack, Liam has heaps for his muscle therapy things.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to–“

“Be back in a second.”

When Louis opens his eyes again, he’s warm. Granted, he’s sweated out a lot of his fever, but he’s got a heat pack resting on his stomach and under his neck. His throat feels coarse and his nose is blocked, the room is dark and he’s alone but at least he isn’t cold.

. . .

It takes almost two weeks of sore throats and stuffy noses before Louis gets any better.

The first night is okay, he just sleeps a lot, thinking maybe the worst had passed. Zayn not-so mysteriously disappears and Harry brings him a few extra boxes of tissues and more of Niall’s flu remedies. Louis is grateful, and he really does try to express that much but his voice disappears completely. Harry makes a joke about him always talking too much anyway before Louis is throwing a pillow at him as he’s leaving, smiling to himself. Louis really hates being sick.

The second night is remarkably worse, and Liam sacrifices one of his favourite thermal blankets he uses for camping, bringing him an assortment of herbal teas and tucking him in like a child. That is, after a whole day of watching 80’s movies that Harry had brought over the day before, in case Louis got bored, even though Louis has his own movies, they apparently weren’t good enough. Harry doesn’t come over that night, but he does text him – _hope ur not dead._ It’s sweet, really.

The next few days pass by similarly, coughing, dying, sleeping, Liam bringing him a bunch of terrifying vitamins and insisting he see a doctor even though it’s just a cold, he’s like, proper concerned, (Louis isn’t about to waste money on having someone tell him what he already knows thank you very much.) Niall brings him food, that he half eats and then throws up two minutes later, he feels terrible, because Niall’s food is fucking great, and definitely does not belong in the toilet bowl, but yeah, that’s where he’s constantly emptying the contents of his stomach. It’s disgusting.

Zayn is gone a lot, and Louis definitely understands his decision to keep away from him while he’s ill, he’s got Harry there to run around for him anyway, making him too many cups of tea, washing his tea cups, repeat, repeat, repeat. He should probably address Harry’s constant presence as a problem, but his head is far too foggy and heavy and the feeling fucking sucks so having someone there is a positive thing for the time being, regardless of who it is.

Louis definitely gets worse before he gets better, and Harry stays with him on the worst night, because Zayn refuses to be in the same vicinity, and Harry assures him he has a strong immune system. He isn’t about to sleep in the same bed though, which, yeah, Louis is probably thankful for that. He pulls up a mattress next to the bed in case Louis gets up and passes out, but this results in Louis nearly tripping over him on his way to throw up in the bathroom.

Harry helps him make it there without falling over, he helps him shower as well, because the hot water makes Louis feel dizzy. The idea of showering with Harry in a non-sexual way makes Louis laugh. He tries to make a weak joke out of it, and Harry just rolls his eyes as he scrubs shampoo into Louis’ hair.

Harry borrows some of Louis’ clothes again and changes his ‘ _germ infested’_ bedding while Louis dries up. He ends up climbing up onto the bed with him and watching a movie, but he doesn’t stay there when Louis drifts back to sleep. Probably because of work and class, and he’s been bringing Louis notes to catch up with, and yeah, Louis is really grateful for him sometimes.

Over the next few days, Louis progressively gets better, Harry stays again and the guys don’t seem to question it much, they’ve just traded flatmates apparently. Louis notices, one rainy day –– “Where is Zayn?” he had asked, as Harry walked into the lounge holding two plates and looking soft and wearing Louis’ clothes, “he’s taken over the couch next door. Don’t give me that look, he said it’s more comfortable than his own bed,” –– so maybe no one is complaining.

Louis knows he is well and truly better when he lasts a full day back at work, and even makes it to one of his classes, able to breathe through his nose again. And, well, there is one thing he probably misses more than being able to breathe properly.

Not to say one of the first things he does when he’s back to feeling one hundred percent is give Harry a desperate and long-awaited booty call.

But yeah, that’s exactly what he does.

. . .

Harry has just raced downstairs to act nonchalant when Zayn gets home unexpectedly, biting down on his swollen lip, dimpled flushed cheeks, but his presence in their house has become so normalized, Zayn just greets him as usual before disappearing into his room.

“Is that a fashion statement?” Louis asks, coming downstairs after Harry.

Harry shoots him a confused look, before glancing down at his shirt he had quickly thrown on inside out, he laughs as he makes a quick switch, and Louis takes the last remainders of his ‘sickly’ clothes to the laundry room, looking at some of his t-shirts swirled in with Harry’s, and he smiles to himself.

. . .

It’s a day until Niall’s birthday party. Louis finished up at work and headed next door, dumping his bag on the couch and sitting at the breakfast bar where Niall and Zayn had just finished sending out a mass invite and are now fussing around in the kitchen, bodies flowing around each other in perfect harmony, and something warm settles in Louis’ chest as he watches them.

Aside from the invitations, there’s also the matter of the shopping list for the party written on a piece of yellow paper stuck to the fridge – which is another thing Louis has realized: with regular dinner dates, movie nights and coexisting, comes regular joint grocery shopping trips – this has actually turned out to be a good thing, though, in Louis’ opinion.

Harry is going over the list while Niall starts cooking their burgers for dinner, Zayn being his diligent sous chef on the side, all waiting for Liam to get home from work.

“Do you guys want me to pick up anything else from the supermarket?” Harry asks.

Niall immediately spins on his heels and starts looking through the pantry, the fridge, the freezer, fixed concentration on his face. “Liam’s out of his weird protein stuff and I need ice cream.”

Harry nods, getting off of his stool, grabbing the keys. “Got it.”

“Oh, Louis, do you want to tag along with him? We need the usual stuff back at home,” Zayn says, his head down as he chops lettuce, something Louis honestly never thought he’d see.

“Okay.” He says, feeling his face flush a little, he gets up from his stool, his hip grazing against Harry’s accidentally.

Niall pauses shaking seasoning into a bowl of minced meat. “If you’re taking the van, we need to fill ‘er up,”

“Why don’t you just take our car?” Zayn suggests.

Louis turns to look at Harry, and he’s looking back at him, his face mainly unreadable but sort of expectant. “Yeah, fine.” Louis says quickly and grabs his own keys.

The ride to the supermarket is rather short and uneventful, save for Harry fiddling with his stereo –– “The station you had it on was shit,” Harry had said, twisting the knobs on the old radio until it lands on something he likes. “You’re ruining the aura of my car, it’s just sad, Haz,” Louis grumbled, and Harry snorted, “you’re literally the _worst,_ you know that?” and Louis turned away when he smiled –– Of course, Harry also messed with his AC, turning it down until Louis was shivering and hitting his hand away. So yeah, he’s still an arsehole.

The sky is dark by the time they pull into the car park, practically empty, and Louis parks beneath a blinking streetlight. He ends up following Harry like a lost puppy through the store, his long legs going a little too quickly for Louis to comfortably walk in sync with, but he doesn’t mind. Harry asks him about different brands, –– “but how do I _know_ it’s free-range?” Harry frowns, turning over a box to check the ingredients, and Louis leans in to get a look, putting his hand on top of Harrys, “if it doesn’t say, then don’t get it,” –– and he’s apparently very unhelpful, but oh well.

Harry digs through the freezers for a good few minutes to get Niall’s ice cream, and they get Liam’s intense protein powder from the health foods aisle that Louis can comfortably say he didn’t know existed until now. They then grab everything from the monster of a shopping list, ridding the supermarket of it’s solo cups and stocking up on drinks and chips. Harry drifts behind Louis as he gets the few items he and Zayn need at their house, it strangely reminds him of when he’d go shopping with his mum and pick out food suited for his sisters different tastes – except this time he’s buying for three boys who are possibly needier than anything he’s had to deal with from his sisters.

He shakes that thought though. Not now.

Once they’ve paid, they head back to the car, escaping the cold nighttime air, escaping the stars, and he turns the car on to let it warm up, the low hum of music filling the silence between them.

“Hey,” Harry says suddenly, and Louis turns to him to see he’s handing him a _Bounty_ bar. “It was two-for-one,” he adds as he takes a bite of his own, and Louis leans back in his seat, and devours the bar, sweet against his tongue, filled with sugary coconut, and he gazes out the windshield, searching for stars in the black abyss above them, only having it marred by the streetlight above them. Which – he just realizes, is beginning to flicker like crazy, sending them into darkness on and off until finally fading out altogether and leaving them in pitch black, nothing but the blue glow of the stereo lighting up the car.

“Freaky,” Louis murmurs, glancing over at Harry who looks actually radiant illuminated by the distant light against his skin, accentuating his bone structure perfectly, his feline-like eyes glowing and entrancing– what the _fuck_.

“Mood lighting,” Harry says cunningly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis snorts, ignoring the curls of heat. “More like murderer lighting, honestly Harold we are in the first five minutes of a _Criminal Minds_ episode,”

Harry smirks and is suddenly moving, leaning over Louis’ seat, his chest centimeters away from Louis’ face, which must look thoroughly confused. That is, until Harry presses down the master lock on the door on Louis’ side, and then turns his face to Louis’. So close. His plush red lips are so close– _fuck fuck fuck._

“There you go.” Harry says softly, quietly, in a silky baritone, snapping Louis’ eyes away from his mouth. “No one can get you now.”

He lets his hand fall to Louis’ thigh. He’s not pressing down but the weight of it feels immense and like it's all Louis can even think about. Harry’s hand on his thigh, his thumb moving in slow and subtle circles, and Harry’s eyes staring into his, both suddenly breathing much heavier than before, Louis’ hand hovering just above Harry’s until he finally lets it rest on top, Harry’s knuckles digging into his palm. Searing heat shoots down Louis’ spine and he really wants to fucking kiss him, god he _wants –_ he knows he can’t, knows there’s no way that’s going to happen. Still, he lets out a steady exhale, because he knows where this is heading.

“I…” Louis chokes out. “I don’t think we–“

“We have time.” Harry says firmly, a strange hint of… _importance_ hidden in his voice, Louis can’t make sense of it.

They’re quiet for a moment, and Louis see’s something heavy in Harrys eyes, _something_ , the faintest hint of it passing underneath – like the shadow of something big, swimming in deep water, and a moment of strange, mutual affinity passes between them.

_Stay._

Louis doesn’t break eye contact, and after one last heated stare he effortlessly hops over into the backseat. He shifts back to make room for Harry, a seatbelt clicker digs into his side and he suddenly wishes he had taken the van instead. (Sex in the van, he’s found, is always rather comfortable.)

Harry lifts himself over to the backseat as well and Louis has to ignore what the sight of his biceps pulsing as he lifts himself over does to him, he sits across from Louis, leaning back against the door, unbuttoning his jeans, and Louis’ hands fit over his, helping him speed up the process, mumbling “let me…” and a charged energy floods through the car when he pulls Harry’s jeans off and leans in between his legs. He’s noticed that, being with Harry, he’s been on the receiving end of blowjobs more often than not, which is _nice_ , certainly, it just means that he has a lot to live up to.

The soft music floods the car, and he starts stroking Harry’s cock in slow, tight movements, his other hand running up under Harry’s shirt, sliding over smooth abs and defined hips, and he looks up to see the boy with furrowed brows and watching him, heavy, half-lidded eyes, and biting down on his bottom lip so that there’s a flash of white across his skin, and Louis feels lightning storms and fireworks shoot off in his brain, his eyes go a little wild, and his chest surges with a strange, frantic need.

Louis grips onto his hip, keeping his hand moving in a steady rhythm slowly building in pace as he jerks him off and Harry lets out a breathy moan, dipping his head back against the fogged up window covered in a layer of condensation from their body heat. Louis feels pleasure pool in the depths of his stomach, a sort of insistent, inexplicable heat blooming and spreading. He hollows his cheeks and he takes him in.

He thumbs Harrys hip bones, working his mouth over steadily at first, just taking in the head, agonizingly slow, and Harry is responsive beneath him, deep moans escaping his throat, his hips shifting and jerking and his breathing ragged. Louis works down gradually, until he’s taking him in all the way, the wet heat of his throat sinking over him, slick, slow, overwhelming, familiar and yet so new somehow.

Harry’s fingers dig into Louis’ back at some point, and Louis moans around his cock – Harry gasps, a sort of sharp intake of breath, squirming beneath him, moaning, “ _God,_ Lou,”

At this point he’s so lost in everything, in Harry, in his own foggy thoughts, that he doesn’t even know whose breath he’s hearing, can’t even recall what fucking planet he’s on.

_Stay._

And fuck, they’re in the middle of an empty parking lot. He wants this to last. He wants _Harry_ to last, to stay – whatever way he means that, he knows it true.

He pulls off of Harry with a slick noise, shuddery breathing, heart pounding so rapidly that he can quite easily imagine it breaking through his chest and into his hands, and maybe even entertain the notion that it’d be Harry’s if he wanted it. But he wouldn’t, because this isn’t what this is. A weight fills his chest, one that really shouldn’t be there, and Louis glances up at Harry, his eyes are closed, mouth gaping. He shouldn’t want to cry when he looks at him, but his heart feels heavy – a quiet desperation settling there, it’s intoxicating, and it takes over all of him.

Without thinking, he starts to unbutton Harry’s shirt, not overly sure where he’s going with this, but he keeps a hand wrapped around Harry’s cock, working it slowly, relishing in the moans that escape the other boys mouth. He starts to place soft kisses to his abs, his tongue playing over Harrys warm skin, Harry clinging to the back of his shirt, his eyes closed.

He starts working his way up Harry’s chest until he’s completely leaning over him, their chests flush and his mouth meeting Harry’s neck, kissing him there while his hand works his cock, the other cradling his head. His tongue swirls smoothly over Harry’s skin, kind of getting lost in it, letting himself lick the curves of Harry’s neck, his nose nudging Harry’s jaw, Harry grunting and shifting beneath him as he grows closer and closer to –

Harry comes. In a loud release of moans and whimpers, Louis releases the boy’s cock and Harry falls pliant beneath him, trembling hands still clinging to his shirt and panting in perfect harmony with Louis, whose heart is beating faster than he’d care to admit, along with the rhythm of the music. He’s shaking, still kissing Harry’s neck because – well, it’s nice right? And Harry hasn’t pushed him away yet, in fact, he might even be pulling him closer.

He is. His palms press further into Louis’ back, finger’s digging in, so Louis sinks into it, sucking and even biting into Harry’s neck and getting so completely lost in it, lost in everything, lost in Harry –  _god_. An overwhelming flood of sensations wash through him, more than he’s felt before, so much more, so much better.

“­ _Fuck,_ ” Harry groans, panting, and he keeps tugging Louis closer, and in the dark of the car, Louis quickly looks up to see Harry with his eyes clenched shut and biting his bottom lip even though all they’re doing is _this_. Granted, it is ridiculously hot.

So he keeps working his mouth over Harry’s neck, and all he can think is that he really, _really_ wants to get his mouth on Harry’s, to close that gap finally – even just to see if he could. He doesn’t think it would be much different, it certainly wouldn’t change anything, it’s just kissing – no. God, no, he couldn’t do that.

He backs off, breathing against Harry’s chest, and then he works his way back down to where things feel more familiar, and he leans with his forehead just hovering above Harry’s chest, waiting for his heart to slow down and his hands to stop trembling. He feels Harry’s grip loosen on his back and eventually his hands fall down to his sides.

Louis doesn’t look at him. Because it was good, it was _too_ good, and it makes Louis’ heart clench at the thought of this all getting too good, too much, and having to watch Harry crumble in front of him again. So Harry really can’t see him be the one to do that first. He still finds his fingers wrapping around Harry’s lean thighs and giving them a quick, somewhat reassuring squeeze before shifting back and climbing into the drivers seat, his lips and his skin and his fingertips tingling.

He starts to drive, to distract his mind from wherever it was going, hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles go white, and eventually he hears Harry doing up his jeans and he climbs into the front as well.

The ride home is quiet, and Louis waits for his heart rate to slow down, but he isn’t sure if it ever will. He doesn’t know – he doesn’t know what Harry is thinking, he’s not sure if he ever really does, and that’s probably a good thing, it’s a good thing that they don’t share the weird and twisted and confusing thoughts they have. And maybe Harry doesn’t even have those thoughts at all. Maybe he just takes this like it is, like they’ve sort of discussed, the mutual understanding between friends with benefits. Maybe his skin doesn’t burn with electricity whenever he thinks about Louis, maybe it doesn’t even ache. And even if that’s the case, Louis thinks… he thinks something happened here.

They pull into the driveway just as Liam is getting out of his car, and by the time they put the groceries away, Niall has heated up their burgers and they’re sitting in front of the TV with the other boys watching Friends reruns.

“What the fuck?” They suddenly hear Niall shout from the kitchen.

Liam tilts his head in the direction, furrowed brows. “What? What’s the matter?”

Footsteps increase in volume, and Niall is trudging into the lounge holding a container of ice cream, pouting with his bottom lip out like a child. “It’s melted!”

Louis feels his face flush, his eyes snapping to Harrys without a second thought.

Harry just shrugs casually. “Hm. Must’ve been their freezers.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very short chapter but it makes sense for it to be that way, i hope :)  
> as always, comments are hugely appreciated x

The rain outside pours down like a hurricane.

Louis watches it from the window of the neighbours house, where music pumps through the room, vibrating every surface, bodies tightly packed and laughing and loud, sitting on couches and chairs and filling the floors, the dim room lit up by coloured ceiling lights, drinks and cups and food on every surface, and Louis, leaning against the window frame where the rain trickles down the glass against the night sky.

It’s Niall’s birthday. Which apparently means that he can have the music as loud as he wants, of course, though Louis is fairly certain everyone on their street is already here anyway, and the weather didn’t seem to put a damper on Niall’s mood one bit when it started to bucket down this morning, while they were setting up, while Zayn and Liam were out getting last minute things and Harry was asking his and Niall’s opinion on a head scarf to wear for the night, and Niall grinned and said “the blue one, you might as well pass out a notepad for people to give you their numbers, H,” and Louis refused to let that sting as he focused on the artful array of bottles on the dining table.

He’s barely seen Harry all night, so hey, maybe it worked. Louis isn’t moping, because moping would happen if he cared about who Harry sleeps with, and Louis is as cool as a motherfucking cucumber. Completely. The music is filling the air, bass shaking his skin, laughter and voices echoing around him, and he _isn’t_ staring out of a rainy window like a scene in a bad movie, he really isn’t.

His eyes catch on Zayn in the moonlight, running across the front yard with his leather jacket pulled over his head to shield him from the rain, and Louis hurries through the masses to open the door for him. “Hey. Get it done?”

Zayn nods, smiling softly at him, leaving his wet jacket on the coat rack and shaking off his hair. “Done.”

“He’ll love it, you know,” Louis says, leaning against the door next to Zayn, where the music isn’t so loud, where there aren’t as many people.

“Yeah, maybe. Art is subjective though, like, _my_ art especially. Conceptually, he might not get it.” Zayn says, and there’s something – he almost looks frustrated? Brows drawn together, his mouth in a hard line.

“Zayn.” Louis says, making sure Zayn looks at him. “Niall thinks you’re great, he knows its important to you, he’s going to love it.”

Zayn inhales slowly, and exhales just as slowly, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

“Tommo!”

Louis looks behind him, seeing Nick and a few others waving him over, he looks back at Zayn before moving. “He’ll love it,” he reassures again, picking up a balloon and hitting it Zayn’s way, “and if you get nervous, just throw some balloons at him and run the other way, solid plan either way,”

Zayn snorts, brightening. “Okay. Maybe I will.”

. . .

“Thank you, mate. This is brilliant!” Niall’s voice fills Zayn’s ears, and he turns to see him, in a blue button up pushed up at the elbows, and blue skin tight jeans, wrapping his arms around someone in a hug, unwrapped gifts on the table behind him. Zayn swallows deeply.

He mentally prepares himself to walk up to him. He’s going to do it. Really. He is.

And –

And he turns around, and walks the other way.

“Zayn!”

Shit.

Walk _faster_.

“Zayn! Hey!” Again. And he spins at the voice this time, meeting Niall’s face, his earnest smile, soft eyes, and he doesn’t even look like he’s been drinking yet. “Hey, there you are, I haven’t seen you all night.”

Zayn rubs the back of his neck. “Hi, hey. Um. How’s your night been?”

Niall smiles back at him, but it seems uneasy, Zayn can tell by the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, good. I mean, I was wondering about where you had disappeared to, Liam went off to tell some of my music mates a compelling story about how he met me, and like, everyone here is great but you know how it is when it’s like, so many faces and a little bit… much?”

Zayn nods sympathetically, having to lean a little closer to speak over the music. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

Niall bites down on his bottom lip somewhat awkwardly, his head turning towards where a group of people just yelled something in unison, drinks held high in the air. “I just don’t know where Harry is, or Louis, I get a bit dizzy when I’m...”

Zayn nods again. Slowly. “I know.”

Niall laughs now, but it’s forced, airy. “It’s weird, probably, coming from me. The parties aren’t usually this big though, or compact – because of the rain. Or solely focused on me.”

Zayn’s heart swells. “Niall, do you want your birthday present from me?”

Niall looks at him now. “You didn’t have to get me anything,”

Zayn shakes his head. “Its next door, come on.”

Despite his protests, Niall takes his hand and lets Zayn lead him through the crowd, to the door. Grabbing his jacket and holding it over both of their heads, they run through the rain to his house, the quiet dull gray of the empty house seeming to calm the other boy instantly. Zayn stops outside his bedroom.

“After you,” Zayn says, holding his arm out towards the door for Niall.

Niall gives him a look, then edges the door open and steps inside. Zayn follows, stopping at the doorframe, leaning his shoulder against it as his eyes follow Niall stepping into the room.

He stops when he sees the canvas first. Zayn had left it on the easel so that it would be the first thing Niall would see when he walked in, worked well in his opinion. The painting is a little smaller than what he usually does, and the colours swirl and shift – shifting in transparencies and textures, growing and moving, golden and pink, fading into one another – like a sunrise.

“Happy birthday,” Zayn says, sort of lamely, from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, and Niall turns to him, something intense, heavy, and soft burning in his eyes. Zayn steps closer. “This is for you, if you didn’t get that. It’s um, it’s supposed to _be_ you, in a way? Like – I paint what I feel, right? And. This… weird and wonderful result is what you make me feel. I’ve been told I’m a bit strange, and I probably am, there isn’t a lot that excites me as much as you do. You’re really great, Niall. I’m incredibly happy to have met you,”

Niall looks at him, emotions flickering behind his eyes, glistening adoration and affection. “I don’t even–“ the words get choked off somehow.

Zayn jumps. “Oh! Also,” he grabs the basket next to the painting, stocked up with all of Niall’s favourites. “I know you like parties, and this is your party, but like, if you did want a break– I mean, I get it if you don’t, this is all for you to take anyway, I don’t have any use for fancy cheese, _god_ –“

“Zayn.” Niall cuts in, chuckling softly, his hand resting atop his heart. “I don’t even know what to say, I’m actually speechless. You, Zayn Malik, have left me speechless. _Me_.”

“Is that… a good thing?”

“Yes, you idiot. Fucking hell, get over here,” he grabs Zayn’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug, arms pressed tightly against his back, warm, close, and Zayn buries his face in the crook of Niall’s neck, hugging him back, smiling against him.

“We can go back over to the party if you want, it is your birthday,” Zayn mumbles into his skin.

Niall shakes his head, Zayn feels the movement against his shoulder. “Not yet, it was getting a bit full on, maybe later when everyone’s forgotten it’s my birthday and I’ve had some alcohol in me. Is that red wine?”

Zayn laughs and lets him go, doesn’t move back though, and glances towards the bottle sticking out of the basket. “I’ve grown to enjoy it.”

“Harry will be very pleased.” Niall says happily, then turns his gaze back to the painting – _his_ painting. “I can’t believe I have my very own _Zayn Malik_ , this’ll be worth a fortune when you’re dead.”

Zayn snorts out laughter. “ _Jesus_ ,” he says, nudging Niall’s shoulder, letting his smile grow wide, feeling like that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

. . .

Several important things happen in the next few hours that pass:

Louis sits on a couch. It’s really, quite a nice couch. He sits there watching Nick and Perrie play beer pong, watching Greg smile at him, not sure if he smiles back. There’s laughing and lights and people and music, Greg’s arm hooked over his shoulder, watching Liam help someone to the bathroom, and then rushing in there himself not two minutes later. Niall and Zayn stumbling back into the house, happy smiles and flushed cheeks, a half full bottle of wine in hand and disappearing into the crowd just as quickly. Watching Harry, who seems to appear out of thin air. He’s there, and he’s got a blue headscarf wrapped around his head, and he’s talking to a group of people Louis doesn’t know. Louis wants to stop looking, he just doesn’t think his eyes can move. He see’s Harry laughing, Louis closes his eyes, and when he opens them again he see’s Harry rushing outside when the rain had stopped, see’s him digging his phone out of his pocket. Louis presses his eyes closed. Letting time fast forward again. God, he’s so drunk.

Louis is leaning against a wall now, the wall next to the stairwell, next to the hallway, next to the bookshelves and photo frames. There are bottles and shots and he’s got Liam leaning against his shoulder, a slur of mumbling words, Louis is looking at him when the words start to make sense, “Louis, I’m scared, I’m so scared.” He frowns. He takes Liam’s hands, takes him into a bathroom, closing the door, locking the door, sitting on the tiles with him, their knees knocking together. “Liam,” he puts a hand to the side of his face, “Liam,” a little louder, “what are you scared of?” Liam presses his eyes closed, his head dipping backwards. “Being alone,” he mumbles, brokenly, inaudibly, “fucking up.” And Louis doesn’t know what it means but he understands somehow, and he nods and strokes the side of Liam’s face, tucking his head into the crook of his neck, twisting their fingers together. “I know,” he whispers, quiet, “I know.”

Brushing his lips to the top of Liam’s head, he leaves him in his bed, leaves him there and squeezes his eyes shut and sees stars and feels the hot sting of tears and doesn’t know why. _Why?_ He breathes deep. He shuts himself in Liam’s dark room for minutes – maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe years. And he feels like he can breathe again when he opens the door, swallows down a full glass of water, feels his head clear when he walks up the stairs, hears his own breath loud and clear when he stands outside Harrys door. Presses his forehead against it. Breathing in just for a moment. The click of the door lets him know that he’s twisted the knob.

Harry. Sitting on the floor at the end of his bed. His legs outstretched in front of him. Eyes thoughtful, vacant, falling on Louis. Louis feels a strange sinking in his stomach – or his chest, or whatever, and he hesitates for a moment, because Harry looks so vulnerable, so… not fine.

Louis takes a step forward, closing the door behind him, keeping his eyes trained on Harrys, sinking down next to him, leaving a space between them, barely centimeters but it feels like oceans.

When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “Is this where you’ve been all night? I mean – I saw you earlier, with your friends, but… you disappear a lot.”

It’s not the only thing he wanted to ask, like why Harry is sitting all alone, on the floor, in the dark, staring into space. But hey, one strange inquiry at a time.

Harry takes a moment to answer, and Louis doesn’t dare look at him, he doesn’t think he needs to. He can imagine what his face looks like right now, the grey dark poured over his pale skin, shadows against the curves of his jaw, his cheekbones. He hears him exhale unsteadily. “When did you see me? I only saw you once.”

Okay. Not the answer he was looking for but.

“When I was on that couch.”

“When you were sitting with Greg?”

Louis pauses.

“I guess so.”

A sort of weird silence follows, and it stays for a moment, before Harry is speaking again. “I’ve just had a strange night.”

Louis watches the shadows of the room shift and grow and return to normal as a car passes the house, streams of yellow-y white. “How so?”

“… Step dad called, and I panic sometimes, when he does.”

Louis’ body stills. It’s just– Harry hasn’t spoken about his family in the time they’d been neighbours. Not really. Louis was coming to terms with just accepting the dismissive behaviour, not trying to force anything out of him. So like, this is a lot. This is _a lot_.

“Harry, that’s… What did he say?”

He looks at Harry now, but Harrys gaze is still focused ahead, even when he speaks.

“Sometimes when you talk to me…” he says, his voice is tired, but there’s a small sense of urgency beneath it. “I don’t know how real you’re being.”

“You know I’m always real with you.” Louis says, his voice soft, “and contrary to popular belief, I’m not a cynical jerk twenty-four seven.”

“Now _that_ is surprising,”

Louis wishes he could smile at that, but he just keeps watching him. “You got me on a good day, I guess.”

Harry looks at him, he looks at him and then turns away, and he’s stays silent. And _god_ if there isn’t anything so gut wrenching, when all Louis can do is sit there, confused, in silence – his fingers itching to touch Harry, to hold his hand or _anything_.

Seconds pass, and Louis looks away, turns back to staring at Harrys drawers, everything inside probably all neatly folded and categorized. More passing moments, and Louis hears each breath, individually, and he counts out the seconds: _one… two… three… four… five…_

He breathes deep, there’s a flare of want and a flare of ache inside of him, so much and so sudden he can’t take it. The hollow, empty moments pass by, and oh wow he’s an idiot. Of course Harry just wants to be alone. He never asked Louis to be here, comforting him or whatever the fuck he’s doing. Well, this is embarrassing.

Louis swallows once, then slowly he shifts to get up.

And he feels a hand wrap around his wrist.

“Jesus,” Harry says, almost sounding annoyed. “You don’t have to go.”

Louis looks back at him, his hand feels like it’s burning around Louis’ wrist, and everything feels soft and fragile, but the air feels electric. He shuffles back down into his original position, letting out steady, calming breaths, and Harry lets go of his wrist, and it still burns.

“Sorry.” Harry says. “Sorry, you can go if you want to.”

Louis smirks now. “Well that’s bloody inconvenient. I just got comfortable again.”

“Do you think I’m a shitty person?” Harry asks suddenly.

Okay. So they’re doing this.

“–I probably shouldn’t be asking _you_ that, it’s not like I’ve given you much of a reason to think otherwise.” Harry quickly adds.

Louis frowns and shakes his head. “Don’t. Just stop it, Haz. You know I don’t think that about you, I _did_ , yeah, but we’re… we’re moving past that. I mean, we can’t hold onto that forever.”

Harry is quiet again, and Louis considers for a moment. “Did someone make you feel like you were?”

“No… just myself, I guess.” Harry responds easily, but his hand is tapping away at his thigh like he’s anxious about something.

“Why?”

“I’ll spare you the gory details and just say I’m a really shitty excuse of a son.”

That causes a sick feeling to settle in his stomach.

“Well that makes two of us.” Louis says quietly.

“Really?”

Louis blinks, looking back at Harry again, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “What do you mean _really_?”

Harry has a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before when he looks at Louis again. “I just… Jay always seemed so proud of you, thought you guys were always so close. It was kind of annoying actually.”

A stifled cough escapes Louis’ throat, mixed in with an odd chuckle. “Yeah, and then shit happened. I had to drop the football scholarship, and I damaged myself by being with people who treated me terribly. It’s exceedingly difficult to have a conversation with her without everything rushing back, every time it feels like a personal attack or something.” There’s a hardness to his voice that he didn’t intend on being there, but he doesn’t think he could have controlled it.

“Sorry.” Harry says, looking down at his hands resting on his lap, ashamedly almost.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“Harry, I hurt you too–“

“I’m the reason you felt like you didn’t deserve anyone better than those low lives who distorted your view of yourself yeah? The guys who ruined your view of what you deserve? It’s because of me.” Harry’s eyes are dark, even where the moonlight hits.

Louis shakes his head again. “It’s not–“

“Stop _doing_ that!” Harry brings his knees up, crossing his arms around them like he needs to have something to hold onto. “Stop trying to make this better, please, I’m so tired of it. I don’t deserve it.”

Louis just frowns further. Everything hurts. “What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know.” Harry shakes his head, pressing his forehead down into his knees and then exhaling a shaky breath, letting go and crossing his legs, his right knee bumping into Louis’ thigh. “I’ve drunk too much and I saw you and–“ he pauses, breathes, “I was just thinking about how much I think I really messed up. With us. And mum. Even Niall and Liam, I don’t think I’ve been much of a friend to them lately, and its like, it’s all because I’m being selfish, thinking too much about how I can fix everything but its already too late so what’s the point–“

“Harry, you’re right. You’re not sober enough to be thinking about any of this, you’re going to drive yourself mad, c’mon, we’ll go downstairs and get some water–“

Harry doesn’t move when Louis puts a hand on his shoulder. “I really don’t want to go anywhere, and I’m more level headed than I’ve been in a while.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, _god_. What could have made you think that’s what I want? That’s never been what I wanted,”

A spark of something shoots down Louis’ spine. “Maybe the few hundred times you told me to go away, that you never wanted to see my face, that I could, very politely, get _fucked_ –“

“That was always in retaliation to what you would say to me, we hated each other, Lou. You remember that part, right?”

Louis sighs heavily. “How could I forget?”

“None of it ever meant anything, it was… we were stupid and–“

“This really isn’t the conversation we should be having right now, not now,”

“– and I don’t think I felt so much before I knew you, which is… weird, maybe. Maybe I just didn’t know how to feel anything with anyone else. I don’t know.”

And fuck, Louis doesn’t remember how to breathe.

“Yeah.” He says, after a few quiet, suffocating seconds. And again, “I don’t want to finish this conversation while you're drunk.”

“I’m not so drunk.”

“You are, Harry.” Louis looks at him pointedly. “I know when you are.”

Harry breathes harder, like releasing plumes of tension from his muscles and his bones, calming. “Yeah. I know.”

“We can talk tomorrow, okay?”

Harry just nods, eyes towards the carpet, and Louis sees his chest rising and falling, becoming heavier when they both get to their feet. Not quite smiling, but looking at him with a sort of subdued, forlorn weight, in murky greens.

Louis sighs, the ghost of a smile left on his lips as he turns away, heading promptly for the door, half expecting the world to play as if it had been paused the entire time he’s been up here. Of course that wouldn’t happen. Of course that’s a really stupid thought.

“Lou,” he hears Harry say behind him.

Louis spins around just in time for Harry to curl his hands around his neck and the back of his head, and press his mouth to his, sealing their lips together in a gentle heat, soft, so soft, and Louis can’t––he can’t even fucking move his body.

His stomach flips, trapped and frozen and he can’t breathe – he’s definitely forgotten how to breathe. Harrys tongue nudges his mouth open, and it’s so warm and wet and Louis feels a strange hotness shoot up his spine, a surge of electricity, blazing, spreading like wildfire wherever Harry touches him.

He finds his hands gripping onto Harry’s waist, pulling him closer, his posture loosening, kissing him back, like he can’t stop himself, his hands are trembling with an ache, a want, _closer, closer, closer_. He leans back against the wall and Harry moves with him, his thigh pressing in between Louis’ legs, and Harry tilts his head to the side, nose digging into Louis’ cheek, pressing another insistent kiss into his mouth.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but it feels like years, and he can’t hear his heart, because it’s long since burst free from the confines of his chest. He’s lost in it, lost in kissing Harry, touching him, pulling him close, kissing his swollen lips and his jawline, the curve just beneath it, just above his neck, and the corner of his mouth, fingers wrapping in his thin white t-shirt, twisting and pulling against him, holding his hips, kissing his cheeks, Harry curving against him, into him.

And he has to breathe, is the thing, he has to stop kissing Harry because he has to breathe. So they stop and his lips are warm and his forehead leans against Harry’s, hot, panting air shared between their heavy breaths, and Louis has to take a step back when he looks up at him.

Because, god, Harry is _crying_.

Louis immediately frowns, feeling cold, confused and –– just. Fuck, _what does any of this mean??_

This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. No, no, no, no ––

He takes another step back, looking at him properly. “Harry…”

Harry quickly wipes his eyes, and rubs a hand over the tear streaks down his face. “S’ nothing, just… been a long night.”

A line forms between Louis’ eyebrows, his chest sinking faster than he knew possible. “I have to go – I should– go. I should really go.”

A flash of hurt crosses Harry’s face, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, before snapping it shut again, and watching, watching as Louis looks at him, then looks at the floor, tension settling in his muscles. He doesn’t look at Harry again as he leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> I feel like I've had this chapter finished for a while and didn't post because I'm stubborn about details – but thanks for reading and the nice comments so far :) the next update will be a lot quicker <3

Louis blinks awake to the sky purpling, coated in darkened clouds, wind whistling and throwing leaves out into the sky. Oh, and not to mention, a _roaring_ headache.

Through dry, groggy eyes he notes the light drips of rain start to hit the window. Yeah. Not good weather today. Makes sense with the storm last night ––

Wait. Since when did he have mustard coloured curtains?

He blinks again.

And three things hit him in quick succession:

  1. He’s not in his own bed.
  2. There’s definitely a body next to him.
  3. He’s still fully clothed. Which. That’s a good sign, right?



Still. His heartbeat speeds up rapidly, eyes snapping open, glancing down to double-check that he is actually clothed, and slowly, very slowly, he pushes himself to turn around, wincing from the burn in his head. He turns to face the direction of the snoring body next to him, the source of the body heat, and ––

Oh, thank fuck.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved in his life.

It’s just Liam.

Thank fucking _god._

The side of Liam’s face is pressed into fluffy white pillows, his gravity defying hair has deflated profusely, emitting slow, deep breaths out of his slightly ajar mouth. He looks so… young, and vulnerable in a way. Louis’ chest expands a little.

He lets his body slump back against the bed, sighing as his heart slows. He’s not exactly sure why he’s there, it’s not like it’s particularly difficult to make it back to his own place, but okay, crashing with Liam isn’t the worst thing that could have happened. God, what even happened last night? How did he end up here?

He presses his eyes closed against the weak morning light, trying to think or – or recall something. He definitely remembers Liam last night; the poor boy was a mess, an absolute _mess_ (Louis reminds himself to talk to him about that when he wakes up.) He remembers Zayn and Niall, the pair glued to each other the whole night, wherever Niall was, Zayn was never far behind and vice versa, and Louis was sitting on the counter next to the fridge with a beer bottle in his hands, and Niall and Zayn were throwing peanuts into his mouth. He remembers feeling weird and dazed and floating through the rest of the night, floating to Harry’s room.

And –

Oh.

Oh god. _Fuck._

Harry _kissed_ him. Did Harry actually kiss him? Yes. He did. And – and Louis kissed him back. Oh _no._ Not to mention Harry was crying. He was _crying._ God, why on earth was he crying??

Dread seeps cold into his bones.

It just – it solidified everything that he knew would happen. When things get like that – when they get _good_ and _comfortable,_ it doesn’t last, it never does, everything always goes to shit. Time and time again Louis has heard people make promises, and there’s a natural instinct to run the other way, to switch off and disappear. And it petrifies him because – well. Because he almost doesn’t _want_ to run from Harry. He isn’t sure he even could.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

Harry _kissed_ him.

He finds it slightly ridiculous that he’s panicking about _this_ after everything they’ve been doing. But it’s different. Kissing comes with certain… expectations _,_ and it was _different_. Yes, Harry was drunk. And fuck he was emotional –– Louis hasn’t even begun to try and decipher what his _words_ meant –– but he kissed him, and it was purposeful, and it meant something, and – oh Jesus.

He looks around the room, eyes catching on his phone on the bedside table next to Liam and he leans over and grabs it, trying not to dip the mattress too far that it would wake the other boy. There are a multitude of texts from Zayn on the screen.

_Zayn: Bro, Niall n I need a third person for our charades team u in?????_

_Zayn: where r u???????????_

_Zayn: idk if ur checking ur ph but I can see u across the room n u look sad, taking u to Liam’s room to lie down x_

_Zayn: talk 2 me tmrw if u need xxxxx_

Okay. Explains the location.

He presses a hand to his forehead, leaves it there, and then carefully starts to shift out from under the covers, standing up on the floor of Liam’s room, next to a car poster along the wall, and smoothing down last nights clothes – fuck his head hurts. He’s never drinking _again._ Or. For at least a week. Certainly.

One thing he knows for sure is that he needs some water.

He pads out of Liam’s room, noticing Harrys door slightly ajar, noticing Niall’s door wide open, a few snoring bodies in there and none of them appear to be Niall (or Zayn, for that matter), just bodies and solo cups, the remnants of the previous night splayed out all over the house.

He wanders downstairs, hearing movement in the kitchen, the sound of the kettle boiling and cutlery clinking together, the smell of food, which is both causing an unwelcome churn deep in his gut and satisfying his empty stomach. Thank god for Niall Horan.

Except, when Louis is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, he finds that it is not in fact Niall making breakfast. It’s Harry.

Harry, still wearing the same clothes as last night – the clothes that he _kissed_ him in – his hair soft and swept back in a bun, and he’s standing, leaning over the stove, moving a frying pan from the heat. When he notices Louis’ presence, he turns and looks at him and –

Well. Louis’ stomach sinks fast.

There’s just _something–_ or, rather, a lack of something in his unblinking stare aside from general surprise. So much of it that it stings. It’s intentional, of course, Louis knows that Harry is putting this on because of what happened, he’s probably regretful, annoyed – fuck. It could be anything. Maybe Louis did actually hurt him when he left. Maybe. The emptiness in his face is alarming though, and yet distressingly familiar at the same time.

Harry freezes for a moment, and the tension settling between them could eat Louis alive. He looks back down at the stove. “Is Liam up yet?”

“Good morning to you too.” Louis mutters quietly, leaning against the doorframe awkwardly. Harry doesn’t say anything as he pours boiling water into a mug. “No, he’s still asleep.”

Harry pauses, looking down at the countertop, where his knuckles are going white.

Well. This isn’t awkward at all.

Louis swallows, suffocating in the tension. “Harry–“

Harry pushes off of the counter, quickly, grabbing his keys from the tray next to the fridge. “Tell him there’s breakfast ready when he’s up.”

“Okay…” Louis frowns, eyes following Harry as he walks past him and towards the door, and Louis feels like he’s teetering on the borderline of feeling relieved that he’s leaving, and wanting to follow him. “Are you going somewhere?”

“The fridge is kind of empty, if you hadn’t noticed.” Harry says as he’s walking away, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice that Louis can’t help but notice.

The front door is closing before he has a chance to respond, and Harry is gone.

Nope. Not awkward at all.

The silence of the sleeping house is suddenly tormenting, engulfing Louis where he stands frozen. He has to force himself to sigh, and shake his head, because he knows that the wounds are still fresh and once this day passes, so will everything else, and things will go back to normal.

He also knows that he has to talk to Zayn immediately. Like. _Now._

He isn’t sure what he’d say; he doesn’t want to say anything really. Just. Maybe talking to Zayn will help, somehow, even if they don’t talk about what’s on his mind. He doesn’t know. His mind is foggy, he needs a shower and his chest feels weird and contorted. Ugh.

He searches through the house for any sign of Zayn, and is about to head over next door when he spots two figures on the grass on the front lawn.

Niall and Zayn are lying on their backs, Niall pointing up to the sky, still wearing a party hat. Louis stops on the porch and watches them, his churning mind and tensed muscles settling for just a moment.

“Well then what’s that planet?” Louis hears Niall ask.

Zayn turns his head, looking at Niall’s profile. “That’s the sun, Niall.”

“… I knew that, s’ why I can’t look directly at it, right?”

“You’re a fuckin’ twat.” Zayn says fondly, and then notices Louis’ presence. “Louis!”

Louis smiles, stepping down towards them. “Hi… have you slept, yet?”

Zayn frowns. “Is it already the morning?”

“The sun is out,” Louis states the obvious, looking upwards, where the sun is half-hidden by clouds. “Well, it’s kind of out. Yes. It’s the morning.”

Zayn unsteadily (and, quite hilariously) pushes himself up from the ground, grass all throughout his hair. “Shit. I should– should probably sleep then. Help me up please.”

Louis gives him a hand to get to his feet, and then does the same for Niall. Both boys wobble where they stand. So. Their _talk_ is definitely out of the question for today it would seem.

. . .

 _Cheese_ _-stuffed crust will be the death of me,_ Louis thinks solemnly as he gorges himself on some reheated pizza.

It’s late noon, the next day, after a full day of sleeping off a hangover, and Louis is definitely not wallowing, he doesn’t wallow. He is, however, getting through a box set of Scrubs, eating pizza, drinking his third cup of tea and indubitably _not_ wallowing over the fact that he hasn’t heard from Harry since yesterday – being too terrified to go over and see him.

He sits down on the couch, pulling a blanket over him when the front door creaks open.

“Can I come in here and mope?” Liam asks from the doorway with a hopeful look in his eyes, he’s in a loose crewneck and sweats. Louis wants to hug him.

“Yes, Li. Of course you can.” Louis says from the couch. “Don’t have to ask.”

Liam shuts the door gently behind him, there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks. Louis reckons he might remember the odd conversation they had on the bathroom floor during Niall’s party. He slouches back against the couch next to Louis, pulling his knees up in front of him. He definitely remembers.

“Did I freak you out at Niall’s birthday? Sorry you caught me having a break down.” Liam says, shaking his head in a self-pitying sort of way.

“Everyone has breakdowns, Li.” Louis knows he’s definitely had well above his fair share. “You don’t have to apologize for it.”

Liam doesn’t fully smile, but he settles down a little, pulling some of Louis’ blanket over him like a protective shield. “I don’t know if you know this, but I go to a lot of parties. And Niall and I _throw_ a lot of parties.”

Louis chuckles softly, not completely, but he feels Liam calm more.

“And sometimes it gets to me what my parents might think. Sometimes I just drink more until I forget, but I don’t know. They expect so much of me, and I don’t want to _be_ that just yet, you know? But it’s… it’s scary to think of what they’d think of me if I said that.”

Louis feels struck almost, because he didn’t know Liam had this buried inside of him. The similarities make Louis feel so exposed. He see’s Liam breathe harder, and _god_ he knows what that feels like.

Louis leans over, closer to Liam, so that Liam has to look at him directly. “Hey. You’re happy right? When you’re with us, and your other friends. It makes you happy?”

Liam’s face is slightly unchanged, but curious. “Yes. The happiest.”

Louis gazes at him. “Then _be_ that. Don’t worry about what your parents will say, you’re doing fine, Li. You’re doing just fine. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m always here.”

Liam smiles definitively, and Louis assumes this conversation is finished. “Ooh. Are you watching Scrubs? I love this show.” He says, reaching over and stealing some of Louis’ pizza.

Louis glares at him, but he doesn’t think Liam even notices.  

By the time the sun has set, Zayn is pulling them back over next door because _apparently_ they have no food.

“Why are you being weird?” Zayn asks when they get to the front door, after Liam has gone inside.

“I’m not being weird, m’ just tired.” Louis responds. It’s not necessarily untrue.

Zayn looks at him like he doesn’t believe him, but walks inside anyway.

Louis swallows; following him over the threshold, into the place that feels like home and the place where Louis isn’t sure he wants to be right now.

Zayn heads straight for the kitchen, evidently following the routine he’s become accustomed to. The air in the house is sweet with the smell of cookies, so Louis follows Zayn into the kitchen, where, it seems, everyone has gathered.

Harry has a textbook in front of him on the breakfast bar, scribbling down notes and Louis is foolishly hoping that Harry has moved past everything already. Zayn has been talking to Niall and Liam for long enough now that Harry must know that Louis is there, and chosen not to acknowledge him. What the _fuck_.

Out of pure stubbornness, really, he sits himself in the stool next to Harry, and he can almost feel Harry’s muscles tense as he does. Seriously, what the fuck? Louis isn’t exactly thrilled with this dismissive outburst, it doesn’t seem fair.

He watches the others move around the kitchen easily. Niall is sautéing something, Liam rattling on to Zayn about a new design layout for the gym, while Louis feels like he’s been weighted down, and Harry hasn’t even looked at him yet. Louis is too scared to decipher what that means.

“I have it loaded up on my laptop, I’ll show you.” Liam suddenly says to Zayn. “Ni?”

Niall takes the pan off of the heat and the three boys start to head off into the lounge. Louis sucks in a panicked breath. _Fuck. Wait. Wait. Take me with you._ Of course they would just assume him and Harry would be fine left alone. And unfortunately, Zayn can’t read minds.

Harry glances up too, the same kind of pleading present in his own eyes probably. If he would just look at Louis then maybe he would know.

Niall disappears out of the room, not noticing Louis’ wary eyes or whatever is in Harry’s.

And then it’s just them. Stuck in a sort of static silence.

Harry stays frozen, briefly, tapping the edge of his pen against the paper.

“What are you writing?” Louis asks cautiously.

“Notes. For class.” Harry responds plainly.

Louis sighs quietly, dejectedly; the weight in his chest grows. “Why are you doing it now?”

“There’s less than a month until the mid-semester break. I’d rather not be rushing to finish everything in the last week.”

His tone is so cold and void of emotion that Louis _feels_ his heart plummet, regardless of the battling thoughts telling him it’s useless anyway.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he blurts out, hoping he sounds as hurt as he’s feeling. Harry looks at him now. Fucking finally.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, really. Absolutely nothing.” Louis says, exasperated. “Clearly, this is normal for you.”

Harrys brows draw together, he sits up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you? Or is this just what you do with people? Fuck them around like toys until it suits for you to just close off altogether.” Louis’ chest pulls in tighter. He should stop. He can’t. “The least you could have done was tell me earlier so that I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”

Harry makes an indignant sound, standing up from his chair. “Well, it’s nice to finally know how you feel. Just do us all a favour, Louis, and fuck off. Let me know when this all actually starts to mean something to you.” He doesn’t sound as angry as he might have intended, there’s something else tearing away at his throat, uncertainty maybe. Maybe even sadness.

Louis doesn’t get a chance to ask what it is before Harry is turning on his heels and storming up the stairs, leaving Louis with nothing but a gasp of cold air.

He knows the other three are in the lounge and probably overheard the whole thing. He doesn’t care. He suddenly wants to cry but they don’t have to see _that._ He turns and makes a beeline for the front door, wrenching it open and slamming it shut behind him.

. . .

“So,” Zayn lies across the end of his bed the next day. “What’s up?”

Louis looks at him, and away from the notebook in his hands. He’s surprised Zayn was able to hold in the confrontation for half a day, he’s sure Niall and Liam already had a discussion with him about how they would approach this. So of course, he just answers with: “What?”

Zayn tilts his head. “What happened at the party? I remember what I saw. You were fucking miserable, then you and Harry explode at each other and storm off. Did you both have to slam the doors at the same time? Ouch.”

“We’re theatrical.”

“ _Louis,_ ”

Louis huffs. “I guess we just don’t have everything figured out like I thought we did. Sue me.”

Zayn scoots closer, so that he’s next to Louis. “You and Harry have been attached at the hip for a while now.”

Louis scoffs. “We have not been _attached at the hip,_ that’s a bit of an exaggeration,”

“You have though, and not just because of that paper you worked on together. You were getting along and he was the one that stayed and looked after you when you were all gross and sick––”

“Oh, thanks for that, by the way.”

“––what happened at Niall’s party?”

Louis swallows, twisting his pen between his fingers slowly, focusing on it intently, so much so that his voice comes out in a whisper.

“I don’t know.”

. . .

Its a cloudy evening after an awkward lecture –– in which Liam sat in between them and tried to prompt a three-person conversation that failed spectacularly –– and they’re headed to the van when Liam stops to check the time on his phone.

“I’ve… got a thing to go to. Meet you guys back at the house later?” Liam says, already backing away, a look of mischief in his eyes. Louis didn’t think he had it in him.

“A _thing_ , sure. Convincing.” Harry mutters. Louis is still struggling to find words that make sense, so he just sighs sadly and sits in the passenger seat.

They don’t speak on the way to the car or on the ride home, Louis feels a sting of hurt, and anger and a bunch of other stuff. Yeah, its mostly anger.

Harry parks in the driveway, taking a second to breathe before reaching for the door handle, and Louis doesn’t remember moving, but suddenly his hand is pressing down on Harrys shoulder. It’s now or never, he supposes.

“What?” Harry says stiffly.

Louis drops his hand. “I don’t see how you have any right to be pissed at me, I didn’t do anything.”

Harry snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily. “Nothing, never mind.”

He gets out of the van and heads inside.

And well, that’s just not good enough.

Louis follows him inside. “Hey! I’m not finished. You don’t get to do that, you can’t just walk away–“

“ _I_ can't?” Harry spins on him, so quickly Louis almost collides with his chest. “Funny, you seemed to have a pretty easy time walking away the other night.”

There it is.

“You took me by surprise! It freaked me out, you know how I get with that but you can't just – I won't go back to this with you, fuck, Harry, I won't. You can’t walk away from me.”

“Fucking hell, what do you want me to say?” Harry says. “I thought this was nothing, I thought _we_ were nothing. Why is this so important to you? Really, Lou.” He looks at him seriously, his chest is heaving. “What do you want me to say?”

Louis presses a hand to his forehead, looking down at the ground. “Fuck, I don’t know. Anything? Something.” His heart is pounding loudly in his chest. He looks back at Harry. “Fucks sake, Haz. You’ve been my best mate over the past few weeks, I don’t want to go back to how shitty things were.”

Harry breathes heavily, sighing. “Yeah.” He says, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’m sorry I kissed you, I was drunk and it was really, really stupid, won't happen again I promise. But this,” he gestures between them, “isn’t working out for me.”

Louis actually winces, his breath snagging a bit that he has to step back from Harry. “Wait, what?”

Harry’s eyes are stern when he looks at him again. “This. Us. Whatever it is, I can’t do it anymore.”

Louis feels a sickening, confusing twist in his stomach; he can basically feel the shell of self-doubt building around him. “Why, because I left after you kissed me? Harry, you owe me a bit more than that.”

Harry tosses his head. “Oh, you think you because I’m screwing you that I suddenly owe you something?”

“No, I think because you’re my friend I deserve a bit more than the cold shoulder. It’s not like I’m fucking asking for much, you can't just pretend like nothing happened. Like nothing has ever happened.”

“Isn’t that all we do? Honestly. I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so confusing, _Christ_.” Harry shakes his head, looking at the ground and chewing his bottom lip.

Louis’ heart is beating faster now, he can hear a car engine outside, a door closing. He still can’t find any words to say to make sense of this. Fuck.

Harry lets out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair like he always does, stepping backwards and looking at him like he’s just tired. “You can’t have it both ways, Louis.” He finally says, before turning around and walking up the stairs.

Louis feels his eyes sting, but he doesn’t follow him.

. . .

The next couple of days don’t feel real. Louis has classes where Harry sits away from him and profoundly ignores him. He goes over next door and sits with the boys and watches Harry from across the room, legs outstretched on the foot rest, looking down at his phone and looking at the others, or on opposite sides of the dining table, and he’ll talk to the others as normal – but as soon as Louis says something to him his eyes go distant and then die off altogether. Louis would have almost preferred Harry to blow up at him again, or _something,_ but it’s nothing. He’s just nothing. And Louis feels sick at the thought of their relationship being reduced to that.

The conversation changes, and no one else even notices. Louis can feel it though; it’s the consequences he gets really. For letting someone in, letting them become important before he even realised they were. He can see every empty space in his life where Harry should be, clear as day, because Harry doesn’t want to be there anymore.

And well, if Louis had any inkling that things couldn’t possibly get worse, he was sorely mistaken.

. . .

Louis places four plates on the dining table, trying too hard to make sure they’re even, setting a knife and fork on either side. The placemats don’t even match, but they’ll have to do. He opens a window to let in the night air. Fuck, it’s so hot in here. Has it always been so hot in here? Whatever Niall cooked involved a lot of steaming, and their rangehood is fucked so the house feels like an oven. No one else seems bothered. Zayn still has his leather jacket on, actually. Well, how great for him.

Louis chews on the inside of his lip, sitting down in his seat.

Maybe.

Maybe he’s a bit miffed. Because there’s an empty place at the table, and he’s trying really hard to ignore it.

. . .

After dinner, Louis is drying the dishes silently while Liam drains the sink of soapy murky water. He puts the dish rack away as Liam clears up the rest of the table.

“So, no Harry tonight?” Louis finally asks, feeling like he’s been holding his breath all night.

“Um,” Liam clears his throat. “There was a work thing, some of the kids he and Niall tutor had a show on. Niall would have gone but he’s got a paper due in like, two minutes. I thought Harry might have mentioned it to you.”

“Oh,” Louis says softly, almost laughing at how hilariously he’s attempting to convince himself that none of this bothers him. He’s not surprised, really. But that doesn’t take away the sting.

Liam’s phone vibrates violently on the counter, and he wipes his hands on his jeans before he answers.

“Hey, man…” Liam says into the phone, Louis can vaguely hear a male voice on the other side. He leans against the island watching Liam pace around the kitchen. “… No way! Bro. Sounds awesome. I’m sure we’ll all be there.” He puts the phone down.

“Who was that?” Louis asks, hoping Liam doesn’t catch his obvious desperation.

Luckily, Liam is often in his own little world. “Nick. Him and some of the others are going on a pub crawl tonight.”

“Whoa.” Niall appears out of nowhere. “Pub crawl? I just submitted an essay that collectively killed me and my unborn children, I need a pub crawl.”

Liam laughs. “Sweet. Told Nick we were up for it.”

Niall looks at Zayn who follows closely at his side. “You have to come.”

Zayn makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Ehh,”

“You’re coming, sweet.” Niall concludes for him.

Zayn frowns. “You’re putting words in my mouth, Ni.”

“It’s my specialty,” Niall says with a shrug. “What about you Tommo?”

Louis slouches slightly. Harry will probably be there. He doesn’t need that tonight. “I might pass, still recovering from your birthday.”

Despite their protests, Louis manages to escape back to his own place. The boys leave not long after and Louis spends the night watching chick flicks that relate to his life in any small way possible, because yes, he is _that_ pathetic.

There’s a frantic knock at the front door when Louis is midway through _He’s Just Not That Into You._ The knock comes again after a brief pause, insistent, and that’s all a bit odd for midnight. Uh.

He switches off the TV and pads across the room towards the door, a bunch of unrealistic scenarios playing through his head –– he definitely watches too much Criminal Minds –– and with a cry for help ready in the back of his throat, he opens the door.

The wind sweeps over him, sucking the air out of his lungs.

“Oh wow, so you _can_ see me.”

Harry’s brows draw together. “What?”

Louis sighs exasperatedly. “Thanks a bunch for making me feel like I don’t exist for the past few days. Really, lovely. I assume you’re here to –– Harry what’s wrong?”

In the dim light, he can see Harry looking at him, his face paler than usual, his eyes tinged with pink and glazed over like he’s been crying. He looks broken and fragile, his lip quirked downwards. Louis feels his stomach knot, his chest being pulled under a wave of something heavy and intense.

Harry pushes his tousled hair back. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late and we haven’t been talking, I just–“

Louis shakes his head quickly. “No, don’t – don’t worry about it. What’s the matter? What happened?”

Harry seems flustered, clearing his throat. “The guys have the van and I need a ride, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Louis doesn’t let that sting, because he doesn’t think Harry meant for it to, and he just nods, already pulling on his shoes. His heart is pounding. “Yeah, of course.”

When Harry slides into the passenger seat, and Louis pulls out of the driveway, he realizes he doesn’t know where they’re going. He stops at an intersection, the roads are dead quiet and he turns to Harry. “Where am I taking you?”

Harry lets out a shaky breath. “It’s a bit of a drive, you can take me to the train station instead–“

“ _Harry,_ ”

“Home,” Harry finally says, “I have to go home, to the hospital.”

Louis pauses. “Home as in…”

“Doncaster, yeah.”

Louis breathes for a few moments, ice seeping into his skin. It’s only natural that he has a million questions flooding his brain; he doesn’t ask any of them though. His hand moves to the gearstick, putting it into first, and he drives.

. . .

It’s a three hour drive to Doncaster, but it feels like it’s taking _years._ There isn’t even any traffic at this time of night, just streetlights in the dark and a starless sky and Louis following the route he knows like the back of his hand.

Fuck, this is a lot.

He keeps his eyes pointedly focused on the road, his grip tight on the steering wheel; he feels every small bump beneath the tyres, every corner turned too sharply. He feels everything, and yeah, it’s a _lot_

Also because, after much convincing, Harry has fallen asleep. Louis is thankful for this, because it means the awkward conversations don’t have to happen, and because Harry looked like a mess –– a _gorgeous,_ terrible mess –– Louis knew he wanted to close his eyes. He could feel it. Harry is leaning against the window, Louis’ jacket from the backseat pulled over him, his distraught face relaxed into steady breaths. Calm, for now.

Louis does want him to sleep. It’s just that, somehow the situation feels considerably more delicate. Fragile. And he’s taking extra care with how he drives because he wants to be careful with him – this stupid, ridiculous, _confusing_ boy who Louis would gladly walk through fire for. He feels like he’s doing something similar now, driving back towards the source of his anxieties, faint whispers of memories in every road sign.

He doesn’t want to be here.

He doesn’t want to think about what it means that he just fucking left without question, despite that very fact. Because he already knows what it means – what they mean to each other. Even if Harry hates him for confusing reasons that Louis doesn’t believe exist, even if every time he looks at Harry and he stares back with a boatload of nothing that just adds to the ache in his chest. Or if all he wants to do right now is reach over and brush his finger tips against Harry’s lips, over the soft skin of his neck and along each tattoo, tell him it’s okay even though he doesn’t know if it is, let the darkness wash over them. Maybe. Maybe it’s all too much, in the end. Maybe they’re supposed to be like this. It seems to keep happening.

Even so. It’s been years, and they’re both still together, in a sense. And that’s got to stand for something.

. . .

Louis doesn’t allow his eyes to linger on any familiar street names or buildings, except one. He stops outside of the main doors of the hospital. The harsh, cold lights greet them, and he reaches over to Harry, who is still sleeping serenely, his face slackened. It’s such a sight that Louis almost doesn’t want to wake him. A wave of endearment rushes over him, so suddenly, so distressingly, that he puts a hand to his shoulder and shakes him gently.

“Hey,” he says quietly, leaning over the gear box a little and sliding his hand up to rest in the curve of Harrys neck, not letting himself linger in the touch there, not letting himself sink into it. “Haz, we’re here.”

Harry jolts awake, blinking his reddened eyes, taking in Louis and then taking in the hospital. He’s not crying anymore, but god, he looks awful, like he’s splitting at the seams and one more push is going to break him.

Harry sighs heavily, still looking slightly disoriented. He gets out of the car, and then leans in the open window, his eyes are so full. “Thank you. I can’t… I really can’t say that enough.” His voice is small and the words sound like they’re clawing out of his throat. Louis feels sick.

“You’ll be okay?” Louis asks, low and soft.

Harry nods, but his eyes betray him. “Yeah. Don’t bother waiting; I’ll catch a train back. Thank you, again.”

Louis holds his gaze for a few moments longer, his mind and body wiped blank. He watches Harry suck in a deep breath then turn around and walk inside. There’s a rush in his step, and Louis watches him leave until he disappears behind a wall. His heart breaks open.

Louis could just go home, like Harry had said. He could ignore it. Harry will be all right.

Yeah, definitely.

Louis sighs, turning the car around and pulling into the car park. God, what the fuck is he doing? He doesn’t even know what happened. He doesn’t think he has much self-control when it comes to Harry –– he _knows_ he doesn’t.

He gets to the reception, and the nurse at the desk tells him to wait a minute while she’s on a phone call, so that at least gives him a moment to think.

Is this to do with the mysterious step dad? Or is it Gemma? Or Anne? He doesn’t even know how serious any of this is, but it must be bad if he came to _him_ for help. Christ. Louis’ mind reels trying to piece all of this together, it’s so far out of his realm that he can’t even see where he came from.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, there he is. Down the hall to his left, Harry is sitting outside a room on a row of grey chairs, and Louis’ chest and stomach and fingertips flood with an odd sensation as he hurries towards him. It’s overwhelming.

Harry has his forearms resting on his thighs, his fingers twisting together anxiously, eyes to the ground, his black clothes harsh against the horrid fluorescent lights. He’s as pale as ever, possibly worse than when he left the car, and his demeanour is stiff. Louis feels hesitant and nervous as he sits in the seat next to him.

Harry only barely seems startled by his presence, he doesn’t look at him, but that’s probably for the best. Louis doesn’t think he could handle it.

Then, very quietly, Harry mumbles, “you didn’t have to come in.” But he doesn’t sound convinced by his own words.

“Yes I did,” Louis says, unable to put much force behind his voice, because this situation feels so fragile. He looks down and notices Harrys fidgeting hands, riddled with anxiety, and slowly, he moves his own hand down, and laces their fingers together. He half expects Harry to pull away from the touch, but he just squeezes Louis’ hand, and Louis leans in closer. “What happened?”

Harry wipes his free hand across his face. “Mum,” he croaks, choking on the word. “She’s sick. Or – she was, and then she got better, but that never lasts right? They had to rush her in last night.”

Louis doesn’t even need to hear Harry say the word, but he does anyway, and though it comes as no surprise, it still feels fucking gut wrenching to hear him say it. “Cancer,”

Louis lets out a deep sigh, pressing his eyes shut for a few seconds. “Oh, Harry…”

Harry still isn’t looking at him, and Louis holds on tighter. “Yeah. It’s fucked up. She beat it a few months ago, still in and out because it never really goes away but–“ he inhales, a shudder of emotion in his words, “but they said she was better now, they said she had _time._ Now she’ll be lucky if she has six months.”

Louis feels like he’s going to choke, all of a sudden.

And then ––

Harry cries. Louis’ ready for it this time though, or, as ready as he can be. The strangled sobs rip through Harrys throat, breaking through every wall, every barrier, and it takes everything in Louis to battle the moisture prickling in his own eyes as he instinctually pulls Harry against him. His arms wrap around him, somewhat awkwardly from the side, but Harry leans into him anyway, his whole body trembling as Louis embraces him, cradling his head with one hand, his heart heavy and thudding in his chest.

Louis brushes a hand over Harry’s hair soothingly, wanting to find the words to say to Harry that can make this better, but everything he can come up with sounds like a lie, and he doesn’t want to lie to Harry. None of this is fair, and that’s all he can think to say and it’s not nearly enough. Harry just needs to cry, and Louis just needs to stay right where he is. Where Harry is.

Louis holds him in the minutes that pass, he lets him cry, he lets him rest his head against his chest. He can’t let go, there’s no way that’s even a possibility. And god, his own heart is racing, and he really wants to cry too. He thinks about a day, three years ago almost, clutching one of Harry’s jackets in his hand, the suede one with a soft woollen lining. Harry had left it at his house, and Louis convinced himself he didn’t need that reminder. He wanted to drop it off when he knew Harry was out, and he caught Anne instead, baking in the kitchen, the smell of brownies filling the air and Louis’ lungs, and she greeted him how she always did, with a warm smile and the offer of tea or staying for dinner.

Louis didn’t stay, and he could see it in her face that she knew, but she still told him he was always welcome back. He never did go back, and fuck, he’s really regretting that, that and every stupid decision he ever made back then.

He feels Harrys breathing slow, his body is still trembling softly, but he thinks he may have stopped crying so he loosens his arms around him, making sure to lock their hands again, like he’s afraid of letting him go.

“Gemma’s in there, talking to the doctor.” Harry breathes, obviously trying to make his voice steadier.

And shit. Gemma. It’s been a long time since he’s seen her; he’d almost forgotten what she looked like when he saw the photographs Harry had of her in his room.

Louis’ eyes flutter across Harry’s profile; his emerald eyes are glassy, cheeks a slight tint of pink and lips bitten red. Louis’ heart lurches out of his chest. “Do you need anything? I can go get you something to eat or–“

“No,” Harry says in a tiny voice, sniffling and wiping his nose. “Just want you here.”

Louis nods, exhaling smoothly, chest thudding loudly.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he stays where he is, holding onto Harrys hand, breathing steadily, brushing his thumb over Harrys skin, trying to make sense of everything. Or trying to work out where he’s going to go from here. What they’re going to be. What any of this means. The door opens to the room in front of them, and they both look up abruptly as a doctor steps out, and then a girl.

She’s familiar. Louis remembers darker hair; nail painting in the living room and making him and Harry milkshakes so that they’d leave when her friends were over. She looks a bit more together than Harry, her eyes only slightly pink, and she meets them with a slightly confused expression. Recognition forms slowly when she looks at Louis, and her eyes drop to their linked hands, then back to their faces.

“Louis Tomlinson?”

He smiles softly. “Hey, Gemma.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and sparks of worry shoot up Louis’ spine, then her face softens with a smile. “Thanks for being here,” and he nods. She then looks at Harry, swallows, and part of Louis aches as he anticipates that there might be bad news coming. Her face doesn’t seem to be leaning that way though, and she walks over to her brother, crouching down in front of him and resting a hand on his knee. “Hey, bud. Doing okay?”

Harry swallows roughly. “Just say it.”

Her eyes are downcast and she nods. “The tumor has spread, but the doctor said she got here at a good time, she’ll be able to get the surgery and treatments first thing.”

Harry lets out a terrible, stifled laugh. “More surgery, I bet she’ll love that.”

Gemma looks at him sympathetically. “There’s still plenty of time, alright? Don’t disappear again, please.”

Something pangs in Louis’ chest, causing him to look at Harry, but Harry is still staring at his sister. “What about Chris? Is he sticking around for any of this or has he fucked off already?”

Gemma sighs, but her softness doesn’t relent. “He was in Asia for a work conference, he’s flying in tonight. He loves her Harry, I know things were tough between you two but he does love her, and he loves you.”

Harry glances away, and when it’s clear he isn’t going to say anymore, Gemma gets to her feet. “She’s resting, but you can go in and see her if you want. I’m heading down to the cafeteria, m’ starving, you’ll be alright?”

Harry nods slowly, exhaustedly.

Gemma looks at Louis again. “It’s good to see you Louis.”

Louis smiles at her in response as she leaves, and then returns his attention back to Harry, looking like the room could swallow him whole.

Harry sucks in a few deep breaths, shuddery, painful almost, and Louis is watching him so carefully, thinking about the last time he saw Harry cry like this, its different to when he cried after kissing him. It feels like a lifetime ago – the words, “ _I’m your friend – I never wanted to hurt you –“_ replay in his head. He wants to turn it off. He’d give anything to be able to turn it off.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” Harry says, letting out a slow exhale as he drags his gaze to the room, it seems terrifying to have to actually go in there, but he stands up when Harry does nonetheless, and in they step.

His chest constricts in a sharp intake of breath when he sees her, but he fears Harry has stopped breathing altogether. She’s lying in the hospital bed, and she looks the same, Louis thinks, paler maybe – he remembers she was always so full of vibrant colour – her cheekbones are more prominent, but she looks peaceful, resting, hooked up to a bunch of machines. Her chest is slowly rising and falling.

Harry steps closer, slowly, tentatively, and the moment feels fragile.

There are two chairs next to the bed, Harry sits in one, his eyes not moving away from his mother, and Louis sits in the other. Harry doesn’t let go of his hand, as his other one grips onto Anne’s.

“I almost died when I was eighteen,” Harry says suddenly, and Louis is taken back. There’s a lightness to Harrys voice, one that wasn’t there before. “We were at an intersection laughing about something on the radio, and the car right in front of me got hit by a drunk driver, and it was so quick, and so loud, and there was blood on the road and everyone in that car died.”

Louis stares at Harry, a deep frown set on his face, his chest frozen in place.

“I actually remember that day well,” Harry continues. “Because you and I had an argument in Drama about something stupid and pointless and we ended up being held in to help clean up afterwards. I wanted to punch you so badly.” Despite everything, a small smile creeps onto his lips.

“So what you’re saying is,” Louis starts, his voice gentle. “I saved your life?”

Harry snorts, and Louis feels a warm wash of relief. “You wish,” the dimples on his cheeks fade though, and he clings tighter to Louis’ hand. “I don’t know… it was just like, it was so surreal. You don’t expect those things to happen to you, like _near death_ kind of experiences. And I remember thinking, at least it was quick, at least they didn’t suffer. It’s got to be better than this, the slow, waiting… always waiting.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” He says quietly, he isn’t even sure what for anymore.

“God, don’t you start apologizing. You’re the only person I want with me right now.”

Louis’ chest is too loud. “Why did you go traveling for that year?” he asks out of nowhere. “I mean, I figured you were on some nomadic quest to find yourself, but it’s starting to make more sense now.”

There’s a tiny quirk to Harrys lips, it fades slowly when he starts to speak. “We found out about the cancer almost two years ago,” he says, his voice barely there. “She had to stay in hospitals a lot, Gemma had gone off to uni, so I was left with my stepdad, Chris. We never got along, or… or I refused to believe that we could. I was so _angry_ and he kept telling me I had to go to university straight away and I had to get a job and I doubt he’d be exactly happy knowing I’m gay. I guess I just felt like she abandoned me. And I know that’s fucking selfish and terrible, but I blamed her for leaving me with him,” he turns and looks at Louis. “Can you believe that? She got sick, and I blamed her.”

Louis’ thumb draws circles on Harry’s hand, his own knuckles pressed against Harry’s thigh. He can see how broken Harry feels, god, he didn’t know his heart could feel this heavy.

Harry returns his gaze to Anne. “So I just… left. Went backpacking around the world, met Niall and just… I thought if I distanced myself from everything that maybe it wouldn’t be real. Because she got better and I… I thought that would mean things were okay. I was in LA with Niall when Gemma called saying she was back home, and I didn’t go back. I couldn’t. I even wrote her letters, but I never sent them. And when I got back home, I barely visited because I was… like, ashamed of how I had handled things. I was still angry with her and angry with him, god. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for that.”

Louis lets go of Harry and places his hand on the nape of his neck instead, smoothing his hand slowly over Harry’s hair. “Harry, I…” Louis pauses, and braces himself for the flood. God, he cares about this boy so much. Here goes, “I don’t want you to feel that way about yourself anymore. You’re like, always blaming yourself and hating yourself and you’re fucking _amazing,_ Haz. You’re everything. And your family doesn’t blame you, I don’t blame you. She’s going to have a lot of time left for you to tell her whatever it is you need to, and I’m here Harry. We’ll get through this.”

It only takes Louis a second to realize what he said.

_We’ll get through this._

_We._

Harry must notice too, because he turns to look at Louis, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, mixed in with the sadness. He exhales deeply, and with it seems to go the tension they’ve both been carrying over the past week.

“Hey,” Gemma’s voice sounds behind them as she enters the room, carrying a couple of sandwiches. “I got you guys one if you want–“

“Um, thanks but,” Harry stands up, so Louis follows. “We’re going to take off,”

Louis meets his gaze. “Harry, we can stay–“

“No, I’ll come back another time. I can’t do this right now.” Harry says hastily. “Please, Lou, I want to go.”

He gives Harry another look, to make sure, and then nods. “Okay.”

Gemma smiles like she understands, and Harry pulls her into a hug, mumbling goodbyes and promising to visit as soon as he feels like he can. She hugs Louis as well, making him promise to look after Harry.

He says he will.

. . .

They make it home as the sun is rising, hazy pinks swirling along the horizon. It’s hardly much different to the drive there, despite the fact that Harry is conscious through it. He doesn’t say much though, just tells Louis he isn’t hungry when Louis offers to stop, and makes a comment about a song on the radio. It’s not much, but it’s something, and Louis has learnt by now that that has to be enough sometimes. Even if he can feel the weight of everything Harry is feeling, and fuck it’s overwhelming.

There’s guilt there too, in the back of his mind, because he knows how furious the girls would be if they knew Louis was so close to home and never stopped in. He knows he wouldn’t have been able to handle that much in one night. One family’s drama is enough for him.

When they finally get home, Louis parks next door in case Harry wants to sleep. He makes them some tea as well, only barely noticing that the others are still off on their drunken excursion. None of that seems overly important right now, he’s thinking about Harry, and Anne. He’s thinking about his own family too, and how he’s got them there, and how he’s losing them.

He sits at the dining table next to Harry, settling his tea down in front of him. They don’t talk, which is probably better, Harry just stares down at his steaming tea, taking small sips, breathing slowly, and Louis watches him.

It feels like there’s a universe between them, everything flooding and filling the distance, making it more difficult for Louis to cross, to get to Harry. There’s too much, and the distance between them feels so permanent, it fucking hurts. Like, everything they do from now on is going to mean too much, and he can’t fall in love with Harry. He _can’t._

What haunts him even more is that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he has to let him go. Harry is beautiful and wonderful; he will eventually find someone else, someone who can commit like Louis can’t, someone that he didn’t hate for three years, that didn’t hurt him like Louis did. Someone who didn’t possibly care more about him than he’d admit when they were young and stupid, someone who doesn’t share every happy memory in those early years of high school, before his mum got sick, before Louis fucked everything up.

This was supposed to be easy, and Louis is falling hard and he can’t stop himself. Fuck. He needs to catch himself before it’s too late, no matter how easily Harry has become an essential figure in his life. He did promise Gemma, and maybe he can just avoid having that other discussion with Harry for right now. While they sort everything else out.

He’s almost finished his tea when the door bursts open, and loud chatter and laughter floods the room alarmingly, the fragility invaded and exploding. Louis keeps his eyes steadily on Harry, it’s sort of ridiculous to think he could look away now.

“Hey,” Louis says quietly as the other boys stumble in, while he still has a chance. “You okay?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Louis doesn’t fully believe him, but he looks towards his friends anyway. They’re hanging off of each other, Niall’s arm hooked over Zayn’s shoulders, Zayn wearing Liam’s hoodie, too drunk to notice the vibe of the room, and Zayn and Liam collapse onto the couch. It’s quite the sight.

“Shit. Did you pay for the taxi?” Liam asks someone into the pillow.

“I did. I think I paid too much though.” Niall says, wandering across the room. “Tommo!” He cheers, planting a kiss to Louis’ cheek. He absolutely reeks of alcohol.

Niall staggers over to Harry and wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind. “What are you guys doing up?”

Louis notices the time; it’s almost nine o’clock. Does Niall sleep in everyday? He wouldn’t be surprised.

Harry doesn’t answer Niall’s question, just wrinkles his nose. “Jesus. What have you been drinking?”

Niall grins, swaying a little. “Everything probably. M’ gonna go sleep now,” he says, and he stumbles up the stairs.

Liam and Zayn have fallen asleep where they’ve clumsily laid down on the couch, and Louis notices Harrys tired eyes, exhaustion prominent in his features.

“Go to bed, Haz.” Louis says, rubbing his hand across the table. “You should really sleep too.”

Harry’s brows draw together, a contemplative look in his eyes. “So should you.”

“I’m not too tired.”

“Please.” Harry says, brokenly. “Please, I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Fuck.

“Okay.”

They crawl into Harry’s bed together, still clothed, under the blankets, and Louis’ heart shudders in his chest. _This is temporary,_ he makes sure to remind himself, _everything_ _is temporary_. The past few hours have been proof enough of that. But just today – today he’ll comfort Harry, and let tomorrow bring more uncertainty. He can do that. The others aren’t going to wake up before him anyway, so he lets Harry shift in between his arms, breathing onto his collarbones, his hands settling on his back.

Another shudder in his chest.

It’s never felt like this before, and Louis knows it’s because of everything that’s happened, and that Harry needs someone, but still. Wow.

He listens to Harry’s soft breathing, the weight of his chest moving up and down, looks at his slackened face, curls draping over his eyes. He looks so young. Louis feels an overwhelming pull in his chest, helplessness tormenting him because there’s nothing he can do to make this better. It settles in the pit of his stomach and at the back of his mind, if he closes his eyes, it’ll only enhance that fact.

After a significant amount of time spent lying awake watching Harry, Louis carefully gets out of bed, making an extra effort not to wake him, and pulling the blanket further over Harry’s shoulders. He tip toes downstairs, past the other sleeping boys and into the kitchen.

Louis can’t cook, is the problem. He really did try, but then he got distracted, and the heat was up too high, and there was smoke, and a black frying pan and Louis vowing to never step into the kitchen again. So he grabs the keys, and heads out.

When he returns half an hour later with bags of McDonalds, the house still hasn’t woken up and everything is quiet. He puts the bags on the bench and wanders back upstairs. He has a quick shower, washing off the past few hours, pressing his forehead against the cool bathroom tiles and squeezing his eyes shut while the water drips over him. He heads back into Harry’s room, finding his jeans and one of Harrys clean shirts, dropping the towel to the floor.

He hears a wolf whistle. “Nice view in the morning.”

He turns around to see Harry, propped up on his elbows, smirking as he watches him. Louis can’t even think of a remark for that when Harry’s eyes drift below his waist, he’s honestly just happy that he’s smiling again.

“Hey. Eyes up here,” he says, gesturing towards his face.

Harry makes a pouty face, and Louis just rolls his eyes, turning away to hide his grin as he continues to get dressed. Harry seems happier already, which is good, it’s something at least, and Louis will take that for now.

“Are you hungry?” He asks when he’s dressed, Harry nods eagerly and gets out of bed and follows Louis downstairs.

Everyone is starting to shift and wake up, groggy and miserable no doubt, and Louis digs through the McDonalds bags on the table.

“Wow, eating like kings are we?” Harry asks.

“Only the best for you,” Louis says, holding out the bag with Harry’s food. “So I know you’re not vegan, but you try not to eat all of that other stuff, so I got you like, a bagel and one of those bags of apple slices because you are a child.”

Harry smiles at him, basically beaming, biting down on his bottom lip as he takes the bag, and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes. “Well, how sweet of you.” There isn’t any sarcasm in his tone either, it’s just soft.

They pause for a moment, standing close to each other, looking at each other with quiet, easy, appreciative smiles, Louis letting his gaze drift all over Harry’s face.

The moment is disrupted, however, when Niall comes downstairs.

“Oh my god, is that McDonalds?” He almost yells, before wincing at the sound of his own voice, and then being hit by one of the couch cushions Liam hurls at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Ni.” Liam groans, lifting his head slightly to glare at their Irish friend before letting his gaze fall on Louis. “Is it McDonalds though?”

Louis snickers, leaving the bags with them, but not before snatching himself a hash brown. “Help yourselves.”

He makes himself another cup of tea, watching as Niall curls up in between the other two boys, Zayn groaning unhappily with his head still buried in the cushions, Liam pushing himself up and switching on the TV. Harry is pulling Louis outside once his tea is ready, onto the patio, and they sit down on the deck chairs, feet up on the empty chairs. It’s cold – or, it should be. It doesn’t feel like it so much now, even where the fog settles around them, clinging to the grass.

“You didn’t have to buy us breakfast, Lou. That was really nice of you.”

Louis chuckles. “Well, I didn’t at first. You’ll find that out when you see the burnt frying pan I’ve hidden somewhere in the kitchen. Don’t tell Niall.”

Harry laughs, light and raspy and Louis feels dizzy. “Wait, Louis Tomlinson _cooking?_ Madness!”

Louis snorts and shakes his head. “You’re actually the worst.”

“No, really. That was strangely sweet of you.”

“I just felt like everyone needed it.”

Harrys face falls softer, lips curving and red against the white fog. “Yeah. I think I really did. So, thanks.”

“Anytime.” Louis sips his tea, still too hot and burning the back of his throat. When Harry’s done eating, they both decide its too cold and wander back inside, finding a half-eaten pancake on the coffee table next to Zayn who has already fallen back asleep, a large duvet pulled over him now, his legs spread out on Niall’s lap, and Liam on the other side of him, drifting between watching reruns of Downton Abbey and falling asleep. And it’s starting to rain outside.

It’s one of those days, Louis decides. One of those days where he needs to drag down a mattress from a bedroom, pile on blankets and watch movies and stop giving a fuck about the world for a moment, the weather is shit and everyone collectively feels like shit so it’s the perfect day for it. They take Liam’s mattress because his room is closer, dragging it into the middle of the lounge in the gap next to the couch and the wall, pillows piled up while Harry walks in carrying a multitude of quilts and blankets from his bed and laying them out on top.

Harry props a few pillows up behind him on half of the mattress, and Louis lies down next to him, leaving a big enough gap between them. It might stay like that, Louis thinks, this might be the way it has to be. And he has to be okay with that.

. . .

Harry is asleep when Zayn taps on Louis’ shoulder. Liam and Niall are sleeping as well, looking uncomfortable how they’re curled up, the sky is dark, it’s been a while since the sun set, just the TV lighting up the room, and Louis refused to let himself fall asleep, because waking up how he would with Harry while they’re in front of the others is something he really didn’t want to deal with.

“Can we go home? I should probably let them have the whole couch,” Zayn nods towards Niall and Liam.

Louis nods, relief sinking in. It’s hard enough being around Harry and not being able to touch him. Being away from him is probably a good thing.

Quietly, he pushes off of the mattress and they trudge through the house, out the door, and towards their own place.

Zayn yawns when they get inside, despite a day filled with doing nothing but napping, and he stretches his arms up above his head. “You good, man? You and Harry seem alright now,”

“Yeah. We sorted it out, I think. I think we’re going to be okay.”

Zayn smiles at him tiredly, and Louis is suddenly feeling an overwhelming weight of exhaustion as well. Zayn heads upstairs to his room, and Louis is about to follow when he hears a light tap at the door. He almost groans out loud, before deciding it might be best to keep that to himself.

He opens the door, and little to his surprise, the moonlight has decided to leave Harry Styles on his doorstep yet again.

He pauses, taking him in. He did _just_ see him, that much is true, but Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, and that is definitely a problem. Harry already looks more well-rested, less tense, but Louis knows this is all going to take its toll on him, one way or another. And then another thing hits Louis; like maybe something has happened in the few minutes he’s been gone.

“Harry, everything okay?” Louis asks, almost breathless. Shit.

Harry smiles, bashfully, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just… wanted to thank you again, didn’t get a chance before you left.”

Louis looks at him with a fondness he didn’t know he possessed. “You already have, it’s not a big deal, Haz.”

Harry shakes his head, looking down. “It is though. I dragged you out in the middle of the night so that I could ask you to drive for three hours to the place we’ve both been avoiding just to cry on your shoulder, and this is after… after I’ve been ignoring you and shit,” he stifles a laugh, meeting Louis’ eyes again. “I’m probably more pathetic than you originally thought.”

“No, you’re not pathetic at all.” Louis says straight away. “I don’t know where you keep getting that from but you need to stop. And… I didn’t stay because, fuck, I felt bad for you or something. You needed me. And that’s sort of reason enough.”

There’s something unreadable in Harry’s eyes again, but his gaze is heavy and Louis knows what it means.

It’s mutual, really, when they lean in, Harrys hands finding his waist and his finding the back of Harrys head. Their foreheads touch first, then their noses, and then, finally, their lips meet. Pressing together tenderly, and for a moment, Louis forgets about everything else, like all of the ache is being sucked out in a vacuum, easing out of his body the more he kisses him. They kiss sweet, and slow, and Harry’s hands rest on Louis’ waist, everything slow and faded but Louis feels electricity in the air, and fireworks going off in his head, because fuck – it’s perfect. Harry knows just how to kiss him and this is only the second time.

Harry pulls away too soon, his hands slipping from Louis’ waist but the heat still lingering there, and he keeps his eyes locked onto Louis’, a small curve to his lips, and Louis can feel every inch of his skin tingling in a strange sensation, he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt it before but its not entirely… unpleasant.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Harry says into the wind, stepping back a little, but seeming better – more at ease than he was the first time they kissed.

Louis nods, leaning against the doorframe, a stupid grin on his face. “Don’t go getting all weird on me again.”

Harry rolls his eyes, grinning sheepishly and digging his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Louis smirks and watches him leave, disappearing into the warm house next door. After making a customary cup of tea, Louis heads off to bed to sleep for the first time in two days.

He has two texts from Harry when he checks his phone.

 _Harry: in all seriousness though, I am sorry that things went a bit backwards for us. I haven’t… you know… been like that with anyone in a long, long time and it’s you and me and us and things are strange_ _but sort of really nice_ _, and I didn’t know how to deal with the way you reacted._ _You make me feel things I wish you didn’t make me feel because you’re seriously such a fucking moron. I mean that from the bottom of my heart._

_Harry: also I hate you and this never happened._

Louis grins down at his phone.

_Louis: I hate you too. A lot. (But if I don’t have to worry about you treating me like I don’t exist tomorrow, that would b great.)_

The reply is almost instantaneous, and makes Louis smile that much wider.

_Harry: nope, just same old attentive me._

_Louis: second thought, ignoring me might not be so bad after all._

_Harry: that’s too bad. Now get some beauty rest, god knows you need it._

Louis puts his phone down and turns onto his side, grinning into his pillow.

He thinks–– he _hopes_ that this will magically figure itself out, and maybe they might just make it through unscathed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! 
> 
> this chapter is my fluff outlet and I already have the next one _sortofkindof_ written so it should be up quickly :)

The sky is the bluest Louis’ seen it in weeks when he opens his eyes. Sun slanting across his fingertips and along Harry’s back where he lies next to him, long strips of yellow over his bare skin. Louis breathes carefully, absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the line that follows Harry’s spine. He’s been sleeping with his face against Harry’s bicep, breathing slowly in a strange pool of calm. If he had it his way, he’d never want to move.

It’s been two weeks since they visited Anne in the hospital, a whole two weeks since Harry breathed a word of it. And that’s okay, Louis expected as much. He knows Harry isn’t going to take off like he did the last time he got this news about her, and he hopes – god, he  _hopes_  Harry has at least spoken to Liam or Niall about it. He doesn’t  _think_ he has, because Louis now seems to be the go-to guy for all things Harry these days (which is ridiculous, really. Niall even once texted him to ask where Harry was when he was  _at_ work  _with_ him.)  

Louis is also slowly coming to terms with the fact that he’s woken up with Harry almost every day since then, and despite that being terrifying to think about, he doesn’t think there’s anything more comforting. Hands touching and bodies close, tangled up in sheets after long nights of Harrys mouth finding every part of him, kissing him to keep quiet, whispering  _shh_ against his lips, so that Zayn doesn’t hear.  

He doesn’t think he minds that part so much.  

He watches Harry breathe deep and slow, hair ruffled from sleep, Louis’ fingers tracing along his jawline, grazing over his skin smoothly. Harrys face sleepily stretches into a smile, eyes still closed. “Hey,” he blinks awake, and Louis’ heart expands boundlessly.  

Louis smiles softly, as if he could even help it, and he runs his hand down Harrys arm, and again. “Hey,” he says back, almost in a whisper. His fingers wrap around the soft skin of Harry’s wrist, before moving back up to cradle his face, he doesn’t know why he does it. He just wants to. Needs to memorise every detail in case – just in case.   

“You okay?” Harry asks, eyes trained on him carefully.  

Louis wants to know what superpower Harry has that lets him always,  _always_ notice when Louis is having doubts, even when he’s barely conscious. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

He feels Harry shift a little, his leg tucked in between Louis’. His fingers drag over Louis’ waist, rolling them over until Harry is leaning above him, with his forearm pressing onto the mattress on the other side of him, legs bracketing him in. He presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips.  

He lingers there, against Louis, warm and almost chaste, until Louis feels him curve into a smile that he can’t help but mimic, opening his own lips and inviting him in. Harry kisses him, slow and languid, not bothering to rush anything or go too far, just easing against him, kissing him, open-mouthed slick in a sleepy rhythm, body against body, mouth against mouth, soaking in each others heat.  

Harry drags himself back and sits up. “I’m stealing that sweater of yours again,” he says, his voice gruff.  

Louis makes a weak noise of protest when Harry gets off the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“You have work and Zayn will be up soon, cutting it a bit close to be sneaking back over.” 

Louis just notices the time. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says solemnly.  

Harry pulls on his jeans, his shirt and Louis’ sweater. It fits him better than it fits Louis, he notices with a hardly-acknowledged hint of envy, mixed with admiration.  

Harry hurries into the bathroom which forces Louis to look away. He gets out of bed and wanders over to his drawers, and is in the middle of searching through his clothes when he feels arms wrap around his waist.  

“ _No,_ ” Harry whines, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder, his hands pressing against his abs. “You don’t have to get dressed.” 

Louis laughs, unhooking Harry’s fingers from his waist. “You’re going to make me late. I don’t think the folks at the library would appreciate me being naked as much as you do.”  

Harry turns him around and plants a kiss to his chest. “I’m such a bad influence,” he grins, mouthing Louis’ collarbones and his neck, his shirt is still unbuttoned Louis notices when their bodies slot closer together. He tries to suppress a shiver; he’d rather not have to endure lasting the entire way to campus trying to hide a semi from Zayn.  

“You  _are_ ,” Louis pushes him away and pulls on some pants. “I hate you.” 

Harry chuckles, picking up his boots from the ground. “You love me.” 

Louis winces, forcing a snicker. He knows Harry meant it as a joke, but still… 

Harry doesn’t seem to notice; instead he starts walking towards the door. “Niall said we’re watching _Die Hard_ tonight, him and Liam are religious about John McClane so I wouldn’t be late.” 

Louis flashes a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.” 

. . . 

Zayn is remarkably chipper on the drive to campus, and when he sits at the front desk next to Louis at work. Well. He’s as chipper as Zayn can be, given his natural moody aura. He’s spent the morning humming  to himself as he stacked books away, and stating its because he’s getting to use the entire gallery space for his latest series. Louis isn’t sure if that’s the full truth but whatever. Zayn has a sketchbook in his lap now, both headphones in and forcing Louis to actually  _do_ the job that they’re both paid for, even if a majority of Louis’ shifts are usually spent playing games on his phone.  

Louis keeps his head down in his own homework while it’s quiet – there are two weeks till the mid-semester break, and Louis had been so distracted with the whole: ‘falling ridiculously fast for his best friend turned enemy turned best friend again’ situation that he hadn’t even noticed. There's also the slight addition of how afflicted he’s feeling about it to the point where it keeps him up at night, stupidly afflicted, sure. Probably, selfishly as well. It’s just that, over the past few days when things have been better than they’ve ever been in the Harry Department, Louis’ been doing a lot of thinking himself. And the thing is, he  _knows_ Harry is a romantic. Louis knows that he loves to romance the hell out of everything with that stupid, lovely, rom-com brain of his. Louis can’t help but wonder, regrettably, how long it’ll take for Harry to want more.  

He knows, eventually, he will. Louis isn’t stupid. And he’s stressing profoundly because he’s just not in that place – and he has no idea when he ever will be. It’s a considerably rocky slope and Louis finally feels like he’s on steady ground for the first time in a long time. He just needs a second to breathe. He hopes Harry can give him that.  

It’s going well, all things considered. Like. There’s no demand for anything as of yet – which, Louis realises, is the only thing actually separating them from being in an  _actual_ relationship (that, and Louis’ overwhelming fear of the word and everything it means), but they’ve got the whole butterflies thing down pat, Louis thinks (but in his defence, he has only felt the ‘new relationship butterflies’ once in his life. So.) They’re properly communicating, as far as Louis can without scaring Harry off completely.  

He’s at a good distance he thinks, the others don’t suspect anything so there’s nothing there for Louis to break. He hasn’t said those exact words to Harry – that he’s worrying about that (without getting into specifics) – but he was thinking it the night Harry came over to watch Captain America in Louis’ bedroom, trailing his swollen lips down Louis’ body, down to his cock, slipping three fingers in until Louis didn’t think he’d ever be able to catch his breath, and everything felt so good and safe and yet so easily breakable. He’s told Harry he just needs some time, and Harry has said that’s okay. So okay. He doesn’t have to feel like he’s fucking up this boy again.  

The sneaking around doesn’t seem to bother either of them, Harry even claimed he could totally climb up to Louis’ window like the “star-crossed lovers” that they are apparently, but Louis was like, one hundred and thirty percent sure Harry would have died, so he’s glad that was avoided.  

The library is quiet this morning, despite most of the tables being filled with students preparing for the last classes before their short break. Jade sets down some books and leans on the counter, squinting at Zayn who is sketching away diligently.  

“Zayn, you’re getting charcoal dust everywhere.” She says, wiping some off of the bench with her palm.  

Zayn pulls out one earphone. “Wuh?” 

She smiles, and shakes her head. “Never mind. Do you guys want to come get lunch after this? Some of the others are meeting up in the music studios. Pizza party and all that fun stuff.” 

Louis looks at Zayn who nods for them, a little more eager than he was probably planning on. “Yeah, sure.”  

When Jades gone to help someone find a book, Louis looks back down at his homework. Why is he even taking a statistics paper? God, fuck –– 

"Hey Harry, what are you doing here?” Zayn says, and Louis’ head shoots up quicker than he’d like to admit.  

Harry is walking into the library, holding up a book. “These things belong here, right?”  

Louis smirks, tentatively because his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “You’re hilarious.” 

Zayn shakes his head, putting his other headphone in. “He’s yours, Louis.” 

Louis pops his thumb up, downright refusing to blush at that phrasing, then turns back to Harry and reaches over to take the book.  

Harry leans his elbows on the counter. “Can we talk?”  

“Yeah,” Louis grabs a pile of new returns and nods towards the stacks. Once they’re at the far end of the library he puts them down and leans against the back wall. “You okay?” 

Harry nods. “Just wanted to say hey,” he slips his hands around Louis’ back and pulls him into a hug. 

“Why is this making me worried?” Louis asks, his chin pressing on Harrys shoulder.  

“I might go see mum in a few days,” Harry murmurs into his neck.  

“Oh.” Louis says, Harry lets him go and steps back. “That’s really good, Haz. Do you want me to come?” 

Harry shakes his head. “That’s alright. I should probably go alone; I have things I should say to her… It might be like, weird to say in front of you.” 

Louis tries to hide the fact that he really doesn’t like that idea, but he nods anyway. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

“I will.” Harry says, and leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Louis’ cheek. Louis’ fingers itch to pull him closer, but he pushes his shoulder instead, biting his lip and smiling but forcing himself not to glance around to make sure no one saw that.  

“Hey, Harry,” a voice suddenly says.  

Louis freezes and looks at Jade who is standing at the end of the row. Shit –– fuck –– 

“Jade, hi,” Harry says, airily, they’re not even touching and Louis notices him tense.  

Jade steps closer, glancing between the two of them. “I… I assume you’re coming to lunch with us?”  

“I am?” 

“You are.” Louis says quickly. “Music rooms at noon.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Harry says, looking at Louis oddly, as if he’s trying to check he’s okay before stepping away. “See you then.” 

When Harrys gone, Louis tries to fill his lungs with oxygen again (unsuccessfully) and he starts slotting some books into the shelves. He see’s Jade lingering out of the corner of his peripheral vision and turns to gaze at her suspiciously. “You alright, Jade?”  

“I didn’t know you and Harry were dating.” She says, but it’s phrased as a question.  

Louis’ head shoots up, feeling like he’s just run a marathon.  “We’re not.” 

Jade raises her eyebrows. “Really? Wow.” 

Louis frowns. “What does that mean?” 

She shrugs. “You guys just seem… You know. Close.” 

Louis shakes his head, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “He’s like, my best friend, its not – it’s not like that.” 

“O-kay. I didn’t know it was such an offensive thing to say,” 

“No – no, its not.” Louis hurries to clarify. “I’m not like,  _offended_  that you would think I’m gay, because I – I am, obviously. Just – not… Not with Harry.” 

Oh  _god._  

She nods. “I mean, I figured since you went on a date with Greg–“ 

“That wasn’t really… A date…”  

God, what the fuck?  

Jade nods, a look on her face like she doesn’t really believe him but is probably as interested in continuing this awkward interaction as much as Louis is. “Okay. Well I’ll see you guys later yeah? Make sure Zayn cleans up the desk when he’s done.” 

“Yeah. I will.” Louis breathes, smiling warily as she leaves. Christ, if Harry had heard that he’d probably wonder why Louis is treating him like he’s the  _plague._  

Louis shakes his head.  _It’s fine, everything is fine._  

. . . 

The weird feeling seems to have worn off by the time lunch rolls around, luckily. It might have something to do with the way Harrys face lights up when he sees Louis walk into the music rooms, but Louis is certain no one person can have that kind of affect on him just by  _seeing_ them. 

Okay, Harry might be the exception to that.  

“Sorry about earlier,” is the first thing Harry says when Louis sits on the ground next to him, cross-legged and knocking shoulders.  

Louis wants to kiss the worry right off of his face.  

“Don’t, we’re good.” Louis says in the lightest possible tone.  

Harry doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Because I told you I wouldn’t, in public, until you wanted me to and then Jade–“ 

“Haz,” Louis wraps his fingers around his wrist. “She doesn’t think its anything. We’re good, honest."

Harry exhales and smiles, and Louis drops his hand from his wrist and pats him on the head instead until Harry starts laughing.  

“ _Die Hard_   _With a Vengeance_ doesn’t even come close to  _Die Harder,_ or the original for that matter,” Niall’s voice fills the room, but all Louis sees is the walking stack of pizza boxes in his place.  

“That’s where you're wrong,” Liam follows behind, setting more pizzas down in the middle of everyone already in here sitting in a circle on the ground. “ _Vengeance_ shows more of his character, what he’s willing to sacrifice for the city, rather than just the action.” 

Harry groans quietly, whispering: “every fucking time,” in Louis’ ear, and Louis can’t help but snicker.  

Niall throws his arms up in the air. “ _Die Hard_ is all  _about_  action! That’s why-“ 

“Guys.” One of the girls cuts them off. “Shut up.” 

“Whoops. Sorry everyone.” Liam says, still glaring at Niall because this debate is probably going to continue tonight.  

The collective mood over lunch is surprisingly light considering all of the classwork that everyone has piled up. People share their plans for the two week break; Perrie and Leigh-Anne are going on a roadtrip, Jade and some of her friends are planning on staying in her parents cabin –– she says something about hiking and Zayn makes a face like he’s smelt something foul, Louis doesn’t think he thought anyone, let alone the entire  _group_ , would notice –– Greg (which, oh  _boy_  does Louis feel bad about that) is going to binge watch, about, twenty-something shows with this other guy –  _Josh,_ Louis thinks his name is.  

“I’m waiting to hear back about my old swimming instructor Job at the Cove.” Liam says, and Louis’ heard him mention this  _Cove_ a few times before, thinks it’s the place they were at in those photographs he found in the glove compartment in the Van. He’s still not sure where or what it is though.  

Louis realises he has no idea what he’s going to do for the break (or what Harry is doing, for that matter.) He has no plans for once, earlier in the year he thought maybe he would visit his family, but now that there’s wedding planning happening he isn’t sure he could stomach it. 

The conversation morphs into _Die Hard_ talk again, but apparently Niall and Liam are banned from making any comments, and so Louis gets to his feet to pour himself a drink of the weird orange soda that Niall likes.  

He makes a startled noise when Greg is suddenly at his side. “Oh! Hi,” 

“Hey, haven’t seen you since Niall’s birthday.” Greg says.  

Louis flushes. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been,” he waves his hand vaguely. "You know, busy." 

Greg smiles warmly. “That’s alright. And hey, Harrys a really cool guy, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of anything.” 

Wait.  _What?_  

Are they that obvious? 

Louis scrambles, not exactly interested in doing this again. “It’s not –“ 

Greg shakes his head, resting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Its fine, Louis, my feelings are intact," he says with a smile. “I’ve got to take off,  _four_ fucking essays due before the end of the week. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Louis forces a smile, imagining he’ll sound overly defensive, as he did with Jade, if he tries to reinforce it again. “Y-yeah. Yeah, definitely.” 

Greg announces his departure to the others, earning himself a few dramatic hugs and goodbyes even though there are still two weeks left and these people will most likely see each other several times before then.  

Louis sits back down with Harry, he doesn’t think he’s as close as he was before, he doesn’t know if that was intentional or not but he can feel Harrys eyes on him and he pretends he doesn’t notice.  

. . . 

When Louis and Zayn get home, Louis shuts himself in his room, bites the bullet and pulls out his phone. It’s long overdue anyway.  

His wound up chest deflates when Lottie answers.  

“ _No way, are you actually calling us?”_ The sarcastic disbelief in her voice is probably plain as day on her face.  

“Alright, be kind, classwork has been consuming my life.” Louis says. “M’ sorry I haven’t called,”  _or visited when I was five minutes away two weeks ago._ She would definitely kill him if she knew that.  

“ _You should be! I’ve had so much to tell you but mum said I should always wait for you to call after that last time_ ,” 

Louis frowns. “Don’t think you can’t call me just because she said so. Lottie–“ he stops himself. He doesn’t want their first phone call in weeks to be about this. “Never mind, spill, what’s been happening?” 

“ _Well, first of all, Daisy and Phoebe are out with mum so I’m all you’ve got for now, so be prepared for an hour long gossip session.”_

“Oh  _great,_ ” Louis smirks, feigning sarcasm.  

“ _Hey._ _Attitude like that and I won’t tell you the juiciest bit of gossip I have.”_

“Go on, then.” 

“ _Remember Aiden?”_

Louis freezes. His heart plummeting to the bottom of his gut.  

“Like… my ex-boyfriend Aiden. Secret ex-boyfriend that I cried to my little sister about for weeks?” 

 _“That’s the one.”_

“What about him?” he manages, apprehensive.  

“ _I ran into him in the supermarket when mum sent me down the other day, somehow he remembered me because he kept looking my way strangely, for like twenty minutes until he finally came over and asked if it was me. So weird. Anyway, he asked how you were_ ,” 

Louis feels anger spark somewhere in the back of his mind, how fucking _dare_ he? 

“ _I said you were fine, didn’t go into detail because I don’t think he deserves to know. Also I wasn’t too sure myself, but yeah, that’s what I said. Oh, and the juiciest part? I saw him in the car park and he totally has a girlfriend_ ,” 

“Well, fuck.” Louis says, remarkably unbothered by that bit of information.  

“ _Yeah. You should thank me for not punching him in the face_ ,” 

Louis laughs now. “You’d just hurt yourself more with your tiny arms, Lotts,” 

“ _Hey, shut up, you. Oh also, I’m finally learning how to drive! Mark– um, mums fiancé, he’s teaching me. I would have preferred you to, but he hasn’t been so bad_ ,” 

He listens to her talk about driving and Mark and school and his sisters and his mother, and he musters up enough energy to laugh when necessary or have input when she stops for long enough to let him speak, but each time, his heart clenches tighter. He’s really,  _really_  missing out on a lot. And he’s really scared to go back.  

. . . 

His eyes are wet when he puts the phone down; he had forced a cheery goodbye and, oh great. He’s crying. He pulls his knees closer to his chest, pressing his head against them for a moment, but the tears keep coming. He feels like he did when he left home, with little intention of going back for a long time. A rush of hurt, fear and cowardice. It’s still the same, somehow. He’s just got better friends and someone who he can’t even admit his feelings to. How fucking great.  

He’s not even thinking when he picks up his phone again.  

" _Louis_?" Harry answers.  

Louis wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve so that Harry doesn’t hear him sniffle. "Hi... Are you busy?" 

" _I'm just at work, why, what’s up?"_

"Oh shit. Right, sorry I completely forgot." 

" _You okay?"_

God, he can read Louis’ mind even through the phone lines.  

"Yeah, its nothing. It can wait." Louis says, steadying his voice.  

" _Lou, you sure? I can get Niall to cover for me, it’s not a big deal,"_

Louis shakes his head, though Harry can’t see. "No, don’t. I'm fine. We'll talk later." 

There’s a pause. " _Alright. Call me if you need anything."_

He hangs up. He’s not even sure where he would start. The ex-boyfriend thing? The family thing? The ‘I need help to be in touch with my feelings’ thing? Louis is at a loss.  

After the puffiness of his eyes settles down, he wanders into Zayn's room and sits on one of the armchairs in there, Zayn barely looks up from his painting, but offers a small smile in acknowledgement.  

Louis cracks open a window and lights a cigarette, the burn eases him slowly, and he spends the next hour regaling Zayn on Lottie’s stories, keeping an even tone in his voice so that Zayn doesn’t realise how much it hurts. He doesn’t mention the Aiden thing. That is something that can stay in the past. 

Eventually, the door bursts open and Niall walks in with his laptop, laying himself out on Zayn's bed and getting started on his homework without a word. It's sort of been like that for a while, though Louis doesn’t know why anyone would willingly spend as much time as Niall does in Zayn's cluttered room, but neither of them seem to mind.  

Once a conversation brews between them and Louis' presence is otherwise unnoticed, he heads back into his own room where Harry is lying back on his bed reading a book. He puts it down when Louis walks in and pushes himself up.  

"Hey."  

Louis closes the door behind him. "Hey." 

When Louis is close enough to the bed, Harry reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him down with him. "What’s going on?" 

Louis sighs, rolling onto his back. "Nothing major, I gave Lottie a call–“ 

“That’s pretty major, Lou,” 

“I know,” Louis says quietly. “I feel like I'm missing out on my sisters lives, I don’t know… I just get sad about all of that. Because I’m like, scared or whatever. I’m scared to go back.” 

Harry exhales sadly, lying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "You should have told me, I could’ve come back earlier." 

Louis smiles weakly, looking at him. "As attractive as it would have been to see me all blubbering and disgusting, I think work is more important." 

"I have seen you cry before. You cried last week when we watched Titanic." 

" _Hey."_  

"Lou, I'm serious. If you need to talk or cry or whatever, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything on your own." 

Louis breathes. "I know, I'm sorry." 

"No, don’t apologise.” Harry says, kissing his forehead. “Are you sure that’s it?" 

"Yeah," Louis says, pausing for a second wondering whether this next part is worth mentioning. “Well, also Lottie ran into Aiden and he asked about me." 

Harry noticeably stiffens. "Oh."  

"… Yeah." 

"What did she say?" 

"She said I was doing fine, and I am." Louis says, smiling at Harry and squeezing his hand.  

Harry half-smiles. "You were almost not going to tell me that, right?" 

"Yeah. I don’t know why, I’m sorry." 

Harry shakes his head. “Stop apologising, Christ. It’s just… Lou, he’s literally the worst person I’ve ever known, maybe I didn’t think that at first but he cost me  _you_. So any affect he had on me is long gone.” 

"I know, I'm not worried about that." 

Harry tilts his head. "Then what are you worried about?" 

Louis lets out a steady breath, trying to work the phrasing in his head before he says anything. “A while back, when you asked me if I loved him, if that’s why I’m like this… I think I did love him. Or, I guess I had nothing to compare it to. My parents never really loved each other so I didn’t have any role models, I thought that if someone said they cared then that was enough. Like that was the best I could get, I suppose. I just  _hate_ talking about it, it reminds me of everything I felt when…”  

"When he broke your heart." Harry finishes.  

"Yeah... that." Louis says, feeling more exposed than he’s ever felt. "And like, everything else that followed I guess."  

 _Losing you,_ Louis thinks.  _That was the most important thing._  

Harry is quiet for a moment, and then he swings himself over Louis' hips, and leans down, pressing their lips together. "Lets not talk about him then. Not ever." 

Louis smiles fondly, nodding definitively. "Not ever."  

. . . 

Louis hears Niall and Zayn leave for next door at six PM, and he rolls off of Harry who had nodded off to sleep after their tiring make out session, nudging him awake.  

He checks his phone next to the bed, hoping the text from Liam isn’t another threat about missing  _Die Hard._  

 _Liam: Family meeting @ 6:00_  

Louis can’t help but smile affectionately. His chest feels warm. He stands up next to the bed. “Up you get, Styles. Liam wants us.” 

"Can't we just stay here?" Harry groans, sitting up and wrapping his hands around Louis' hips. "Let's just stay here,"

" _Don't,_ " Louis scolds him. "You're the worst _._ "

Harry's thumbs slip in the waistband of Louis' jeans. "I'll bake you cupcakes." He lifts up Louis' shirt and trails his mouth over him, whispers, "I'll let you fuck me," against his skin. His fingers land on the button at the top of Louis' jeans.

" _You_ benefit from that as well." Louis shoo's him away, brushing his shirt down. 

Harry lets Louis pull him to his feet. "Come  _on,_ we have to sit through all of the  _Die_ _Hard_ movies. Give me something to live for."

"You're so dramatic." Louis says with little effort, eyes trained on Harry as he steps backwards, tugging Harry with him with a hand twisted in his shirt. He kisses him hard, hitting the wall behind him, and Harry's kisses remain heavy when his hands dig into Louis' waist. A thrill shoots up Louis' spine, in his gut, and he keeps his mouth on Harrys like he can't breathe if he doesn't, gripping his back like a lifeline. Ridiculous. Stupid. Incredible.

He pulls back and watches Harry, pupils wide and blown, lips swollen. He looks breath-taking. "Let's go." He says, and Harry follows this time.

Liam is just walking into the lounge when they sit on the couch with Niall and Zayn.

“Okay, do you guys have plans for the break?” He asks, probably directed at him and Zayn.  

Louis leans forward a bit to glance at Zayn who’s just raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. “Nope.” 

“I’ve got swim lessons to teach back at the Cove, we all go back there every few months but I wasn’t sure if they were going to offer again. My family have a beach house where we used to stay every summer before Niall left to travel. Do you guys want to come? I know its like, the middle of autumn, but it might be fun.” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, then looks at Zayn again. “Yeah?” 

Zayn shrugs disinterestedly. “Got nothin’ better to do.” 

“Ha-ha,” Niall says, nudging Zayn’s shoulder. “You would have missed us.” 

Zayn presses his lips together to suppress a smile. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Louis shares a knowing grin with Harry while Liam puts on the first  _Die Hard_ DVD. When he switches off the lights, Louis leans against Harrys shoulder, Harry readjusts himself, sliding an arm out behind Louis, and carefully threading his fingers through his hair, only to pull away whenever anyone gets up.  

Louis wholeheartedly decides he doesn’t mind, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.  

. . . 

On Wednesday, after their lecture, Harry says he could almost skip back to the van but Louis insists he’ll walk the other way and pretend he doesn't know them if he did. They’ve only got one paper to submit next week before they’re free for the break, and Harry is bursting with a breezy sense of self-assuredness. It’d be annoying if he weren’t so fucking adorable.  

They’re about to head out the door when Professor Reynolds calls after them.  

“Harry! Can I steal you for a moment?” 

Harry stops and Louis almost topples over walking next to him. “Yeah, sure,” he says, giving Louis another glance. 

“I’ll wait outside,” Louis says with a smile, and heads out the door.  

He leans against the wall of the building and watches other students walk past him, carrying books and binders. The sky is still blue, but there’s a haze of white dusted over it, and the sort of cold that isn’t quite icy enough to be numbing, he digs the toe of his shoe aimlessly into the loose gravel and kicks a stone across the paving onto the expanse of the green quad just as Harry walks out, hands in his pockets.  

“Hey,” Louis pushes himself off of the wall and they walk towards the car park. “What was that about?” 

“He wants me to babysit his kid tonight, as the  _responsible young man_ that I am, he thought it was appropriate.” 

Louis snorts. “Oh wow. You really have him fooled don’t you?” 

Harry's mouth forms an over-the-top pout. “ _Hey,_ ” 

Louis grins, not moving away when their hands brush as they walk. “So you’ll be occupied tonight, then?” 

Harry nods. “Unfortunately. But he’s paying me, so I’ll buy you something pretty when I’m done.” 

Louis doesn’t blush. He doesn’t. “How sweet.” 

. . . 

Louis feels awfully bored at home when Harry is away, despite his studies, so when he hears from him he thinks it's completely reasonable that he almost jumps up from his seat.  

 _Harry: hey, busy?_  

 _Louis: nope, whats up? did u burn his house down or something?_  

 _Harry: hey! I’m offended. No, I was just… your sisters a quite young, yeah?_  

 _Louis: yes… why?_  

 _Harry: I’ve kind of only babysat children that are under two… and Andy is four and he’s a little shit and I feel really bad for thinking that but really I can’t get him to go to bed, any advice or do you enjoy knowing that I’m suffering?_  

 _Louis: you know I do ;) but okay, uh. Give him a stern word, take away his toys, threaten him with closet monsters and bed bugs, whatever your parents did to get you to eat your vegetables?_  

 _Harry: didn’t get that special treatment unfortunately._  

 _Louis: just glare at him until he complies??_  

 _Harry: doesn’t work. He’s not even looking at me, The Simpsons is apparently more important. Oh my god, I’m losing it Lou._  

 _Louis: Do you want me to come over? I’ll be super stealthy, promise._  

 _Harry: if you could that would be great? and yes. stealth would be greatly appreciated, I quite like my professor not hating me for having a guy over while his kid is in the other room._  

 _Louis: oh you flatter me. txt me the address, be there soon._  

Harry sends him the address and Louis arrives ten minutes later. He parks a bit down the road just out of reach of the streetlights, and he buries his hands in his pockets as he walks along the footpath, feeling hilariously out of place when he looks along the street of lavish houses. 

When he finally finds the address; it’s a big, modern house with tall windows and a tidy front yard. Someone’s wealthy. Louis can bet there are a dozen crystal chandeliers and original pieces of art that Zayn would drool over hanging up inside as well.  

He stops by the driveway, spotting the equally out of place van parked outside of the house, and taps Harry’s contact on his phone.  

“ _Are you here?”_ Harry answers. 

“What kind of professor lives in a neighbourhood like this?" Louis says. "He has a secret identity, doesn’t he? I’m going to have to snoop when you let me in,” 

He hears movement on Harrys end.  _“I’m not letting you in if you’re going to snoop_ ,” and the front door swings open, just as Louis has walked up to it.  

Harry is standing inside with a small smile on his face and sliding his phone back into his pocket. He looks… kind of adorable, his hair is pulled back into a haphazard bun and a tea towel over his shoulder. He looks tired as well, but somehow still really nice. 

“Thank you.” Harry says, sounding genuinely relieved. 

“Is he as hard to deal with as I am?” Louis asks, amused at Harry’s state and stepping inside, admiring the shimmering glass staircase and high ceilings and – ah yes, there’s that chandelier.  

Harry chuckles. “You’d be surprised at how similar you are, I can hardly tell the difference.” 

Louis glares at him, then heads towards the sounds of a cartoon playing on the flat screen in the living room. A small child in TMNT pyjamas is perched on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. 

He looks up at Louis when he walks in, and at Harry following behind. 

“Andy, this is Louis. He’s a friend of mine.” Harry says, crouching down next to him.  

“Why are you here?” Andy asks, his round little face gazing up at Louis. 

Louis knows he doesn’t meld well with kids, but he puts on a friendly smile nonetheless and crouches down next to Harry. “Harry had to call me over because he told me you wont go to bed when he asks you to, it’s made him very sad, and it makes me proper upset whenever Harrys not happy, so how about you hop into bed and we’ll tell your dad how good you’ve been, yeah?” 

Andy stares at him vacantly for a few seconds longer, and then turns his attention back to the TV screen. Louis huffs. 

“Okay,” he says decisively. He takes the remote and switches the TV off, and Andy kicks up a fuss and whines and cries and Louis gets Harry – reluctant as he is – to take Andy’s hand, pull him into his bedroom, and tuck him up in bed despite Andy’s best efforts to throw a fit. Louis looks through his bookshelf while Harry says calming words to him, but the kid is clearly struggling. Obviously he has  _such_ a hard life – and okay, maybe Louis could tone down his bitter thoughts towards children who don’t know better, but  _really._  

“What’s your favourite book, Andy?” Louis asks from where he’s crouched down scanning the vast array of books he has – Louis is only a tiny bit jealous of a fucking four year old. 

Andy cries from his bed: “I don’t  _want to–_ “ 

“Alright!  _Ten Happy Dinosaurs_ it is, I love this book,” Louis says, sliding the book out and bringing it over to them. “Do you like this book?” 

Andy looks at him with a sad face and nods, his sobs subsiding in seconds.  

“It’s cool, innit? My mum used to read it to me when I was your age.” Louis says with extra enthusiasm, and he tries – and fails – to bite back a warm smile at the fond face Harry is making as he watches him, his dimples out in full force and his eyes sparkling as Louis kneels down on the other side of Andy’s bed, holding out the book in front of him. “Which dinosaur is your favourite?”  

Andy points to the Pterodactyl in the middle. “Me too! High-five,” Louis says, holding his hand out and high-fiving him, smiling, and looking sleepier already. “They can fly, so they’re the best. What about you Haz?” Louis grins over at Harry.

“I’m a bit of a triceratops guy myself.” Harry says, smiling warmly. 

“I like them too.” Andy says, snapping Louis out of his Harry-daze. He gives Harry a high-five too and Louis can’t help but chuckle fondly.

“Okay, well I don’t know about you Andy, but I think Harry has a really nice voice so he should do the reading.” Louis smirks wryly at Harry, holding out the book to him.  

Harry half-glares at him, grinning stupidly. “Yeah, okay.” He takes the book from Louis and opens it up, clearing his throat dramatically, and Louis rolls his eyes. “ _As the forest got much smaller, its food supplies did too, so the dinosaurs decided to look for jobs to do…_ ” 

Andy falls into an easy sleep when they’re barely halfway through and Harry quietly closes the book, sets it down and switches off the lamp and the two quietly leave the room, keeping the door slightly ajar, and they walk back down the hallway. 

“You’re good. You’re like, really good.” Harry says when they’re back in the living room. 

Louis shrugs his shoulders as he trails his hand over a dustless bookshelf. “Mum was out a lot when I was younger so I kind of had to be if I wanted my sisters to listen to me, I honestly don’t even like kids that much.” 

Harry shakes his head, stopping when Louis does to admire a small stone sculpture. “You were so good with him though. I was at it for an hour before you came.” 

Louis turns his gaze to him. “Not out of the kindness of my heart I can assure you, I just felt bad for you having to put up with the spoilt brat.” 

Harrys face softens. “But like, I want to be a paediatrician. I feel like I should probably be able to get a kid to go to sleep.” He chuckles weakly. “I should be better at this.” 

Louis’ chest feels tight. “You’re great with kids Harry. You’re going to be fine.” 

Harry settles his gaze on him, his lips tugging upwards, before darting his eyes away quickly. “You’re right though, he is a spoilt brat.” 

Louis snickers, calmness seeping into his bones. “Yeah, shit. Look at this place.” He says in awe as he looks around the room. 

“Right? Reynolds is loaded.” Harry says, running his hands gently over an antique vase. 

Louis swallows, watching him. “Being a professor clearly pays well, though I’m still sticking with my secret identity theory. Might need to find me one to shack up with.” 

Harry snorts. “Well, I don’t think Andy’s mum is in the picture anymore, but he does have a girlfriend that you’ll have to take care of if you know what I mean.” He says suggestively and Louis has to cover his mouth to muffle his laughter.  

Harry treats him to some of the food that was left out for him while Louis leans his forearms on the shiny granite island next to him, there’s chocolate covered strawberries, fancy cheese sandwiches and powdered donuts –– which Louis makes a point in noting that that’s a strange selection to leave out for a babysitter, Harry just laughs and licks icing sugar from the corner of Louis’ mouth –– they then end up back on the couch, Harry sitting pressed up against Louis’ side like he’s never heard of personal space. They talk about classes and Harry tells Louis a bit about this mysterious  _Cove_ , and suddenly, Harry is leaning in between Louis’ legs, and they’re kissing. 

It’s gentle at first, both a little worried about waking up the kid down the hall, but then Louis is twisting his fingers in Harrys hair that has long since come out of the hair tie, sucking languid kisses into his mouth, slow and deliberate, his tongue licking across Harry’s opening mouth, inviting him in, letting out a low moan into Louis’ mouth. Louis shifts back on the couch, letting Harry move with him, working up slowly, until Louis’ hips are pressing up. 

He can’t believe they’re making out in their  _Professors_ house, on his  _couch,_ and he doesn’t even fucking care. He brushes his hands over the back of Harrys thighs, up to his hips under his shirt, his thumbs running under the waist band of his jeans and pressing into the soft skin slightly, Harry breathing hard against his mouth, the taste of his saliva sweet and slick. Harry trails kisses along Louis’ jawline, his mouth hot against his skin and Louis groans, his mouth hanging open, head tilted back, Harry’s tongue flicking over his neck, sucking in kisses and finding his mouth again – tantalising and fevered and fucking  _everything,_ brushing his lips against Louis’, softer now, and he’s smiling.  

“What is it?” Louis asks, smiling as well, finding his mouth again, kissing him again. 

Harry shifts back a little to meet his eyes, sitting on Louis’ lap, his smile bashful as he runs a hand through his hair. “Nothin’. This is just… this is nice. You’re nice.” 

Louis’ chest tightens, a faded sense of agitated panic somewhere at the back of his mind. He doesn’t say anything though, just grabs the front of Harry’s shirt and pulls him down again, kissing into his mouth. 

The unmistakable stream of headlights wash over the room. 

“Fuck,” Louis says, and Harry quickly hops off of his lap, laughing, pulling Louis up with him. Harry takes Louis’ hand and leads him through the hall to an office down the back with large windows covering the back wall leading out to the side of the house. Louis cannot believe they’re actually doing this.  

“I wasn’t initially going to make you climb out of a window, it was a little  _too_ ‘teen movie cliché’ for me, but desperate times,” Harry shrugs, opening the window for Louis. 

Louis smiles, warmth bubbling in his chest. “If we’re doing that, I’ll need some pebbles to throw at your window – oh and I’ll have to make you a mix tape, how do you feel about every single song being  _Careless Whisper?_ –“ 

Harry surges forward and presses their lips together, cradling the back of Louis’ head, cutting him off altogether. Its quick, stolen from Louis’ mouth with all of the air in his lungs, but Louis still manages to tilt his head to the side and kiss him back, warm and soft, letting his eyes drift shut for a second – breaking away when they hear the front door opening. 

Louis gives Harry one last heartfelt smile, and he climbs out of the window, trudges through the pristine flower garden, getting into his car and spending a frozen moment trying to catch his breath. When he does, he drives home, trying to remember the moment when he became so completely  _gone_ for Harry Styles. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many emotions oops

By the time Louis gets home from work on Friday, he's got one night to pack for a two day trip to a seminar in Brighton, which they were _apparently_ told about weeks ago, but Louis is determined to believe it was sprung on them this morning when Reynolds waltzed in late giving them hand-outs: “Attendance isn’t compulsory, but it is recommended as this will be considerably beneficial to the final paper submission.”

Louis is choosing to view this as a distraction, and Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t even really _need_ to go considering he had already finished his work early so that he could spend the remaining days of the week visiting his mum, but he claimed he’ll show interest in it –– Louis knows he just wants to go shopping all of the quirky little shops, dragging along an unwilling Liam Payne –– Harry and Liam have already packed, and Louis is folding away a sweater next to a tank top because he has no idea what the weather will be like. 

“Lou.” Harry says. “Louis… Lewis… Tommo… hey,”

Louis spins around from his position on the ground to glare up at Harry who is sitting on his bed. “What? What do you want?”

Harry holds up a rainbow unicorn plush with big pink sparkly eyes and an equally sparkly horn, amused. “How long have you had this and why has it taken this long for me to notice? I might have liked you more if I knew you slept with stuffed toy. I mean, I’ve been on your bed enough times.”

Louis shakes his head and smiles down at the shirt in his hands. “It’s my sisters’, she gave it to me when I left.”

“Which sister?”

“Phoebe.”

“Cute.” Harry says. “She was like, _four_ when I last saw her.”

 _It’s been too long for me too,_ Louis thinks, perfectly folding his shirt and placing it in his suitcase.

“You pack so _slowly_ ,” Harry complains, nudging Louis with his ankle. “We’ll leave without you.”

Louis elbows him away. “The train leaves tomorrow, you knob.”

“You keep refolding the same shirt, you’re like, meticulous, I had no idea. You don’t utilize that enough.” Harry says, amused.

Louis shakes his head, grinning stupidly wide. “God, do you ever shut up?”

“You’d hate it if I did.” Harry says.

Louis opens his mouth, about to say something sarcastic but there’s a tightness in his throat so instead he drops the shirt in his hands and gets to his feet, spinning around to find Harry smirking at him and he falls onto him without giving the other boy a second of preparation. His legs around Harrys waist, tipping them both back onto the bed, an “oomph––“ escaping Harry’s lips, Louis’ hands land on his shoulders, straddling him, pressing their lips together hungrily.

Harry’s already smirking against his mouth when he kisses back, easing into him, his hands smooth over Louis’ lower back, sliding beneath his shirt, and everywhere he touches, Louis feels it burn over his skin, feels it engrave into him; fingertips down his spine, the edge of his waistline, his shoulder blades. Harry’s mouth opens, slick, just enough to pull Louis in further.

“Mm, hi,” Harry breathes, lips curved when they pull apart. Gazes locked, heavy, but Harry’s features are so soft that Louis has to bite down on his bottom lip. Wow.

Louis can hear his heart beat loudly in his ears –– he kisses Harry again, sliding his tongue between his lips, sharing his grin. He tastes sweet, (probably from the brownies Zayn made this morning – without Niall’s assistance for once – and he spent an hour convincing Liam that they didn’t contain any dodgy ingredients) his tongue runs along Harrys bottom lip, mouth open and inviting him in, always inviting him in, hips grinding unabashedly, sending Louis writhing, frantic, he starts fumbling with the zipper of Harry’s jeans.

“Tommo, you up here?” Niall’s voice calls from the steps.

Louis jumps back with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, pushing himself off of Harry and knocking his thigh into the corner of his bedside table, a sharp jolt of pain shoots up his leg and it takes everything in him not to curse loudly.

He’s pretty sure he’s just seen his life flash before his eyes but he somehow manages to gain some composure, stepping back enough, smoothing down his shirt. Harry props himself up on his elbows, lips red and brows pinched together. Something passes his eyes that Louis doesn’t understand, but he offers a small smile anyway.

The creak of the door announces Niall’s entering, and Louis spins around to be _totally-completely-super-casual._ Niall’s eyes flick between Harry and him. “Oh – um, you’re both here. Cool. Just wondering if I can steal your room when you guys are away?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Why exactly?”

“Well, Harry and Liam will be gone and it’s sort of weird being in the house by myself. Zayn said we could watch movies and shit so I figured I could just crash in here if that’s cool with you?”

Louis almost blushes on Zayn’s behalf. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Niall breathes a sigh of relief. “Awesome, ah, cool, yeah. Thanks,” he looks at Harry again, and then leans on the doorframe. “Whatcha’ up to?”

Colour slowly starts to fill Harry’s flushed cheeks and he sits up properly, straightening his shirt down where it had ridden up a little. “Lou needs a cheerleader while he packs or else it’ll never happen,” he offers a dismissive smirk at Louis’ eye roll, then drifts his gaze back to Niall. “You ‘right man?”

Niall seems frozen in place before jumping slightly as if a small jolt just passed through him. “Yeah! Yeah, I just – I wanted to talk to Louis about… a thing…”

A look of confusion passes over Harry’s face and he glances at Louis who just shrugs with a similar expression. He pushes himself up off the bed, slapping a reassuring hand to Niall’s shoulder as he leaves. Louis kind of doesn’t want him to go, he’s beginning to have a weird issue with being away from Harry for too long. He’s choosing not to think about that though, as if not addressing the problem will make it go away. He turns his attention to Niall as they both sit down on the bed.

“So,” Niall says after a few seconds of silence, swirling a finger in the duvet.

“So?” Louis tilts his head to meet Niall’s drifting gaze, curious, and relatively confused. “Did I do something, or…?”

Niall’s head shoots up. “No, god, no. I just wanted to ask you something kind of personal?”

Louis stares at him thoughtfully. “Okay… so it’s something you couldn’t ask the others even though you’re closer with them, is it like… how to be this devilishly handsome? Because it isn’t something that can be taught unfortunately, it’s a gift, a blessing and a curse if you will–“

Niall’s laughter cuts him off. “You’re amazing, but no, that’s not it. I actually wanted to ask you about Zayn?”

“Zayn? What about him?”

“Like. What’s his… deal?”

Louis merely blinks in response, drawing a blank.

“Like,” Niall tries again. “What’s he into?”

“Can I have some context?”

Niall slaps his palm to his forehead. “Oh my god. Is he gay?”

Blunt. Good. Nice.

Wait–

“Whoa boy. Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“I’m literally not being vague at all. And an answer would be really great right now.”

Louis narrows his gaze. “You want to sleep with Zayn?”

“No! Well, yes. But – no, I… I want to like, _be_ with him? All the time, or – or whenever he wants me, and I want to talk and like, make him coffee whenever he needs it, which I honestly already do, but. But like, I want to make him happy, because he’s really, really great and _really_ hot–“

Louis waves his hands in front of his face. “Okay, okay, jeez, are you asking for my blessing for marriage or,”

Niall snickers. “C’mon, this isn’t easy for me to ask okay? I’ve never had to… like, clarify with the guys’ friends before. Zayn’s a fucking enigma.”

Louis smiles, nodding in agreement. “That he is. And he has had boyfriends in the past, yes.”

Niall seems to flood with relief, his body slouching looser. “Okay, so he is…”

“He doesn’t like to label himself as anything, but honestly Ni, you’ll be fine. Go for it,” he rests a hand on the side of Niall’s neck, dropping his voice to a more serious tone. “You have my blessing.”

Niall snorts laughter, but leans further into the touch. “How very kind of you, and… thanks.”

“No problem. Besides, I thought you guys were already fucking, so.”

Niall makes a startled noise. “ _Jesus,_ ” he gets to his feet, walking towards the door before turning back to Louis. “Also, I do think we’re close. You’re just as important to me as the others and I am personally offended that you would think otherwise.”

Louis’ heart lodges in his throat, and Niall simply offers a warm smile before he heads back downstairs. Louis lies back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. It’s not long after that Harry is poking his head back in the room.

“Well fuck,” Louis mumbles quietly when Harry climbs onto the bed next to him.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with Niall,” Louis says, taking an astounding amount of amusement in Harry’s reaction: a mixture of confused, bothered, and slightly appalled. “ _Kidding,_ he just said I was important to him. Sort of makes me feel weird.”

“That’s all a guy has to do for you to fall in love? Well shit, could have told me–“

Louis kisses the words right out of his mouth: _don’t say it._

Harry rolls further onto his side to cup the side of Louis’ face in his hand, pressing their lips together eagerly, Louis’ fingers threading through Harry’s hair, tangling in curls and softening strokes. He really does want to keep his hands on Harry, keep holding him like he is, but it only lasts a fraction longer before he’s shifting away.

“Can’t have another close call like that, Christ,” Louis mumbles, ignoring Harry’s stubborn groan when he sits up. “Besides, I’ve still got heaps to pack.”

He slips off the bed, back onto the ground in front of his suitcase.

“You know it’s only one night right?” Harry asks.

“I need to be prepared for all weather scenarios,” Louis says. “It’s important.”

“Of course.” Harry slides down on the ground next to him. “What did Niall want?”

“Not sure if I can tell you.” Louis says, air-zipping his lips.

Harry’s mouth forms a pout, and Louis is _definitely_ not going to cave. No way.

“I hate secrets.” Harry grumbles.

Louis stares at him. “We’ve literally been having secret sex for months.”

Harry grins a little. “Yeah, but that’s fun, and I’m in on it. This isn’t fun.”

“It is for me.” Louis says.

“Yeah, but you’re a dick.”

“True,” Louis says, surveying the clothes he has packed to make sure he hasn’t missed anything.

“Hey,” Harry says, distracting him by grabbing his hand and squeezing it. Louis looks at him. “It wasn’t anything bad though?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nothing bad,” he says, and he squeezes back.

. . .

On Saturday morning, Zayn and Niall drop the three of them off at the station, meeting up with the rest of their classmates. They had to wake up stupidly early, so walking onto the train, Louis is certain he’ll doze off as soon as he sits down. He sits across from Harry and Liam, the space between them short enough for Louis to prop his feet up on the seat next to Harry’s legs.

Louis doesn’t mind long train rides, like he doesn’t mind long car rides, sometimes it helps to clear his head. Or sometimes he’s left alone with his distressing thoughts and crippling anxieties; usually centered around dying alone and fucking up anyone he gets close to. It’s difficult to find a balance sometimes.

He isn’t left completely to his own company though, thankfully. He looks over at Liam, he’s in a baggy grey hoodie and jeans, looking slightly antsy and tired with his fingers tapping on his thigh irritably and probably without his knowledge. Harry, on the other hand, is looking like he’s just stumbled out of some romantic-drama filled with self-discovery, melancholy and worn travel journals. His hair is still ruffled from sleep, a few curls astray, he’s wearing distressed blue jeans and he’s got a fucking flannel shirt on over his t-shirt. He looks like he’s trying to find himself on the train tracks, eyes tilted towards the greenery sweeping past them. This is some Nicholas Sparks shit, and Louis is right in the middle of it.

It’s sort of quiet for a bit as the train leaves, and Louis finds himself wondering whether or not Harry and Liam would be the sort to draw on his face if he falls asleep, when Liam, seeming oddly jumpy, gets to his feet.

“I’m gonna go find a bathroom,” he says restlessly, before darting off down the hall.

Louis meets Harrys gaze with a confused shrug, unsure of whether he should follow, but Liam usually makes it known when he wants to confess what’s on his mind, so he doesn’t dwell on it. Harry looks back out the window, closing his eyes against the sun when it slices through passing tree branches, opening them again when the shadows play across his face. Louis keeps looking at him because he clearly has problems, it’s stupid to think he could look away when he sees the pale sun glint off of the green in Harry’s eyes, it’s sort of incredible.

Christ, maybe Louis is the lead in this romantic-drama instead.

He’s almost too dazed to notice his phone vibrate, a text from Niall along the screen. Which is good. It’s a good distraction.

_Niall: are you still on the train?_

_Louis: it’s only been like, barely twenty minutes, yes I’m still on the train._

_Niall: I have questions for you, which I should probably know the answer to but I don’t want to be wrong and accidentally kill Zayn or something._

_Louis: oh my god what happened. Harry is the med student._

_Niall: I didn’t hurt him or anything! I just need to know – is Zayn allergic to anything? Does he like guys who also have a lot of tattoos? Does he like flowers? (if so what kind??)_

_Louis: 1) no 2) he doesn’t care 3) I assume he does but I’ve never heard him mention a preference. The living kind?_

_Niall: thanks but also what the fuck._

_Louis: he’ll literally love anything you do, breathe nialler x_

He attaches a string of kissing emoji’s and slips his phone back in his pocket.

“What are you grinning about?” Harry asks, lips curving upwards at the edges.

“I think I’m helping our friends get laid.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Oh? I thought that was already happening but good for them.”

Louis chuckles, then licks along his bottom lip and leans over a little to gaze down the empty halls. “Is Liam okay?”

Harry shuffles in his seat. “Um, don’t think so. His parents are going to be at the seminar. They’re in medicine, so.”

Louis frowns, with the little knowledge he has of Liam’s parents (mainly from Liam’s breakdown and then their discussion post-breakdown) he isn’t hugely confident that Liam _would_ be okay. “Oh… is it like, really bad? He talked to me about them a couple of weeks ago, it was a bit distressing.”

Harry shrugs. “I can’t really make a judgment, I’ve met them a few times and they just… they expect a lot from him, so he sets his expectations of himself even higher.”

“God… that’s shit.”

“Yup,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’. He takes a deep breath and swallows, but he offers a small smile afterwards. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes but Louis thinks it could probably still light up half of the world–– _enough. God, get it together._

“So,” Louis says, in an effort to change the topic, both of their conversation and the thoughts jammed in his head. He slides into the seat where Liam was previously sitting next to Harry. “You remember Liam’s birthday, right?”

Harry grins, clearly noticing his obvious subject change and cringing at the memory. “How could I possibly forget?”

“Niall mentioned you had a thing with some guy in Spain?”

 _Ah yes, great way to swerve the conversation_. Louis mentally slaps himself.

Harry looks at him incredulously. “Are you seriously asking me about my ex? Would you like me to ask you about yours?”

Louis shrugs, unbothered. “I only have one ex boyfriend and you already know him. Everyone else in between never really mattered.”

Louis notices how absolutely _sad_ that sounds out loud, and he’s almost embarrassed. He’s only ever spoken so… _candidly_ about ‘The Past Year Louis’ to Zayn, and even then he’s been too ashamed or empty to go too far into detail. His chest shudders, but Harry tilts his eyes up thoughtfully, thankfully not following Louis’ train of thought.

“Dante was a guitar-playing painter who owned a sail boat and spoke ten different languages. He spent a few months out of the year building houses in Uganda.” Harry says blithely, biting back a smirk.

Louis scowls. “Disgusting. I hate him.”

“You _asked!_ ”

“Did you have to make him sound like such a saint?”

Harry laughs. “We didn’t really vibe well, surprisingly enough. Didn’t have much to talk about and he was always preoccupied with something else. And he was _my_ age, you know I have a thing for older men.”

“I’m barely two years older than you! You make it sound like I’m fucking seventy,”

Harry chuckles again, lacing their hands together, dragging his thumb over Louis’ skin. “So there was really no one that you considered more than just a ‘fling’?”

Louis doesn’t even pause to think. He doesn’t have to. “Nope. I don’t think it was the same both ways though sometimes,” he says, unable to meet Harrys eyes. “I know it’s awful. It wasn’t easy for me to see the difference.”

“Wasn’t? But it is now?”

“I’m trying.” Louis says with a smile, his gaze flickering downward to the curve of Harry’s lower lip. He’s close enough to kiss.

“They have some very aggressive hand dryers on here,” Liam voice cuts through the tentative air.

Louis rips his hand back abruptly, he doesn’t mean to do it so sharply, and he’s about to apologize to Harry when Liam makes his appearance, sitting in the other seat across from them without question.

“You guys alright?” Liam asks, as if his own storming off isn’t something to be questioned.

Harry speaks before Louis can. “I’m actually starving,”

“Bro, Nick brought an entire picnic in his bag,” Liam says. “C’mon lets go steal from him.”

Harry gets to his feet and looks down at Louis. “You coming?”

Louis shakes his head, his stomach churning a little with unease. “I’ll pass.”

Harry almost looks like he’s considering staying too, but they seem to be on the same wavelength when Louis thinks it’s ridiculous that they can’t be away from each other for extended amounts of time, and he follows Liam down the hall. Louis turns his attention to the world rolling away behind them, listening to the frantic pace of his heart start to recede.

. . .

Upon arriving at their hotel, Louis is struck by how close to the ocean it is. He’s bent on whispering “ _Reynolds. Secret identity. Fucking proved it,”_ into Harry’s ear every time they see something that is a little too fancy for their uni to afford. A banner for the seminar is draped over the entryway, and Louis expects to see lonely men in lab coats wandering around and having boring discussions before he remembers that that’s the sole reason he’s here. 

They split off into groups of three’s and four’s for their rooms, and he follows Liam and Harry to theirs. It’s got an ocean view. He _definitely_ doesn’t send a picture to Niall and Zayn, with an emoji that expresses how smug he feels attached on the end.

There are two queen-sized beds against the wall facing the door that leads to the ensuite, topped with shiny gold duvets and too many pillows.

“Okay, who’s sharing and who gets a bed to themselves?” Liam asks, laying his bag down.

Louis shares a glance with Harry: _do we want Liam to catch us waking up tangled up together? No. Probably not._

Harry seems to catch on easily enough. “Well, Liam and I have actually shared a bed together on more than one occasion so,” he throws an arm around Liam’s shoulders.

“Excellent.” Louis says, jumping right in the middle of the bed he claims, the fluffy duvet puffing up around him.

. . .

After getting set up in their rooms they head down to the convention hall and meet up with the others. Liam downs a cup of coffee to settle himself, and Louis helps himself to the mini pastries while they sit through a few hours of what Louis is certain is just arguments about climate change. It’s still too early, Louis suppresses a yawn to refrain from appearing rude to the speaker, and by the time the bulk of it is over, Harry is pulling him and Liam outside.

Although it’s nearing on winter, the sky is bright blue and gorgeous, sun sitting up high and casting warmth onto Louis’ skin. They wander down to a few thrifty, eclectic little shops, that is, _after_ they’ve stopped to get Liam something substantial to eat to keep him occupied.

“What do you think?” Harry asks, trying on his tenth pair of aviators.

Louis smiles at him, as if he isn’t the most ridiculous person he’s ever met, and, for the tenth time, he replies, “you look great, Haz,” which is apparently not a feasible response because Harry just shakes his head and huffs, searching the racks for another pair.

They end up going into a shop a few blocks over, it has colourful doors made from recycled timber, full of kitschy knick-knacks on industrial shelves and mismatched hangers, and Louis finds some old books he wants from inside a spray painted crate while Liam waits outside with a milkshake, on the phone to Niall about something. Harry uses the opportunity to pull Louis into the changing room with him, stripping out of his shirt and pulling on some of the ones he’s picked up in the shop, asking for Louis’ opinion again and again: “You could buy a normal t-shirt and distress it yourself for half the price,” Louis points out. “But I like this one. It suits me.” Harry responds, pouting. “Yeah, but–“ “Great. I’m getting it.” Harry smiles stubbornly, and out of his shirt again, he kisses Louis against the mirror until their mouths are red.

While Harry puts the clothes back that he doesn’t want, Louis stands by a shelf filled with different antique snow globes, he tips one upside down in his hand, mainly to look at the intricate bronze stand on the bottom, and then turns it back up again, watching the snow trickle over the city. “Snow globes?” Harry asks, at his side again, and Louis shrugs, “I just like them.” He waits outside with Liam while Harry pays for his shirts, taking a sip of Liam’s vanilla milkshake as he hangs up his phone call, shrugs off his hoodie, sun hitting his biceps when a passing car honks at him. Louis doesn’t stop laughing at Liam’s red cheeks for at _least_ twenty minutes.

Louis buys him and Harry veggie burgers, Liam still nursing half a steak sub, and they sit on the stones that line the beach. Harry breaking off bits of his burger bun and throwing it towards a couple of sea gulls until he’s attracted a hoard. “Look at what you’ve done now, Haz,” Louis says, shaking his head, his fringe shifting on his face against the slight breeze. Liam uses his hoodie as a pillow as he lies back, closing his eyes against the sun, relaxed in the heat.

Harry makes sure Liam isn’t looking when he shifts closer to Louis, and his head presses against the curve of Louis’ neck, whispering that he wants to stay like this forever, and Louis isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to catch his breath. He wants to cry because there’s a little voice in his head telling him it’s never going to be okay. That voice taking form of a hundred different people who loved him and left him, nights spent crying in his mother’s arms, crying in Zayn’s arms. He’s not sure he would recover so quickly if it were Harry. He’s not sure he’d be able to recover at all.

When they return to the convention hall just after sunset, after a quick stop in their room to change into something nicer, the hall is filled with the bodies mingling amongst each other, empty bottles and glasses scattering the tables and silver trays of tiny food and salad bowls. The loud sound of Nick’s boasting laughter; standing with some of the others – Jade, Perrie and Luke – all nursing drinks and talking amongst themselves.

Reynolds finds them, ushers them around to some of the guests, and Louis is already drained by the time Liam introduces him to his parents.

“This is Louis, and you know Harry,” Liam says, hands folded behind his back.

Louis shakes hands with the man and woman standing next to him, smiling properly because he still isn’t sure what to make of them. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the woman says, “keeping our Liam out of trouble, I hope?”

Louis hears Harry snort under his breath, disguising it behind a cough, and even Liam looks away to smirk. Louis is personally offended.

“Of _course_ ,” Louis insists, then more genuine: “It’s been great, he’s been really good to have as a neighbour and a friend. You should be proud.”

His parents practically beam at their son, and Liam looks shocked almost, and when Louis disappears to get a drink a few minutes later, he offers him a look: _thank you._ Yeah, Louis is pretty much the second coming. Big surprise.

. . .

An hour later, Harry has gone off to talk to the other med-guests, and Louis’ sat at one of the tables with Jade, sharing a bottle of wine between them and a plate with a half eaten club sandwich on it. Liam’s still with his parents and some of their friends, Louis’ just waiting for the signal to call his phone or something if he needs it. He’s watching Harry mainly, charming the pants off of the other guests in his nicely fitted suit, hair pushed back by unnecessary sunglasses, while Louis digs his fingers into his thighs and tells himself he doesn’t care.

“Just friends, hm?” Jade says suggestively, and when Louis looks at her she’s already looking at him, the way he can sort of tell she’s seen how he’s been staring at Harry.

He just casts a small smile down at the table. “Something like that.”

“Want to talk outside?” Jade asks, softer. “I’m a great listener, you look like you need to get something off your chest.”

Louis nods and they walk out into the darkened garden out the back of the hotel, pebbles make way for a small path leading through greenery, all looking different in the dark. Outdoor lights switch on and they sit at an iron bench in amongst the flowers, amongst the rose bushes, faint sounds of the ocean and crickets.

He plays with the cuff of his sleeve, sudden nerves. He doesn’t know how to start this, but truthfully, he’s known this would all be easier to deal with if he talked to someone about it. Someone out of their little group specifically, because he wouldn’t want to be faced with the _knowing_ every single day. And Jades a friend. He breathes hard, feeling suffocated and exposed nonetheless.

“I won’t judge you, just so you know,” Jade says, smiling reassuringly.

“I know,” Louis says. “So do you want the abridged version, or do you have some time?”

Jade laughs. “As _riveting_ as those conversations inside are, I think I’d rather stay and listen to you.”

“Okay,” Louis says, readying himself to admit some of the things he’s never even told Zayn before, a deep twisting in his gut. “Alright. So. I met Harry in high school, and straight away we just clicked. At the time I was dating this guy, Aiden, he was the first person I’d ever fallen for, right, and he wasn’t necessarily closeted but he didn’t want anyone to know so we were never anything official, not to him anyway. Which... I guess at the time that stung a lot and Harry was kind of the only thing that made it better, he was pretty much everything, but I never told him about Aiden.”

“Anyway, that lasted about a year, and––and then I um, I caught Aiden cheating on me,” Louis pauses, his throat already going dry. “ _With_ Harry. And I just… I freaked out. I was so hurt and I don’t even think it was because it was Aiden to be honest, like, just because he was my _first,_ you know? I didn’t feel much of anything when he kept calling me afterwards, because he said hearing my voice made him happier, even though we weren’t together.”

“Fuck – how long did that go for?” Jade asks, visibly furious.

Louis laughs bitterly, exhaling slowly. “He only stopped calling a little under a year ago, I had long since stopped answering. I wasn’t sure what he could gain from it, some weird possessive thing of his, I don’t know – I was his _gay awakening_ I guess,” he scoffs. “But I think… I think what hurt the most was that it was Harry _._ It made me feel sick. Of course, he didn’t even know about Aiden and me, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t look past it. And I did some really shitty things after that, really, really awful,” he stops himself before divulging into any of _that._

“Um. So yeah, our friendship effectively turned bad as quickly as it started. For the rest of high school, and the year that followed. And in that year, I was on this football scholarship back home and injured up my leg so I had to drop out, my dad fucked off, I had a string of terrible relationships, and I was completely to blame for how much they screwed me up because I let them happen. And eventually, I wanted it to happen because I wanted to be the one that got to leave, like there was no sort of affinity there, I was just numb to how it made people feel because I had already felt it, I just didn't care. It’s like… s’ so fucked up, right?”

Jade doesn’t reply, but she shakes her head minutely.

“And… and then Harry moved in next door to me at the start of this semester. That was completely awful at first, like everything still hurt somehow.” Louis breathes through his nose, focusing on digging the toe of his shoe into the stones. “Then we hooked up.”

“Wow, _while_ you were still at each others throats?” Jade asks.

“Oh, especially then,” Louis grins slightly. “A lot. It was _really fucking good ––_ but you don’t want to hear that. Uh. And it’s been like… rediscovering everything about him that I… that made me happy, which was a stupid thing to do because now he’s the most important person all over again and I’m shit-scared.”

“Because you don’t want him to leave, or you to fuck it up?” Jade supplies, untangling the muddled up thoughts Louis’ left splayed out in front of her.

“Precisely. Cause it’s like, if I do… it’s _Harry._ I won’t get another second chance.”

She’s quiet for a moment, making sense of that, and then she tilts her head to meet his gaze. “Ever think you might not need it?”

Louis pauses, mainly just because its strange hearing someone else say that. “I think that all the time, and then my whole chest closes in and I can’t breathe. It sounds completely overdramatic out loud but–“

“No, it doesn’t. It’s totally understandable.”

“If I hurt him,” he lowers his gaze, giving her a serious look. “I wouldn’t – I wouldn’t even be able to– _god._ ”

Jade flattens her hand on top of his. “Hey, it’s okay to be scared. How’s he with all of this sneaking around?”

“He says it’s fine that I need time but I don’t know _how much_ I’ll need. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t. He cares enough to wait, it’s okay, Louis.” Jade says, offering a comforting smile. “Now can I ask, did anyone punch this Aiden guy in the face? Because I would have.”

Louis grins, feeling the tension seeping from his muscles. “Zayn wanted to. But then he’d probably want to go after the other guy as well and I didn’t exactly want Harry to _physically_ get hurt. It was my fault for not telling him about Aiden earlier.” He shakes his head pathetically. “I think… I think I didn’t tell him because I knew deep down that Aiden didn’t care as much and I was sort of ashamed of being his little ‘gay experiment’.” Louis tucks back the memories, doesn’t dare say he might have been a little _gone_ for Harry back then, back when he could have never imagined him feeling the same. 

As much as saying everything out loud stings, he feels an overwhelming sort of weightlessness after getting all of that off his chest, a ‘rip off the Band-Aid’ sort of feeling. He looks over at Jade cautiously for _something_ and she’s smiling wholeheartedly back at him.

“I know you didn’t specifically ask for my advice but I really do think that when you’re ready, you’ll be okay. If you decided to tell everyone now, it’d be okay.” She sounds so genuine that it almost convinces Louis, as if it’s that simple. He’s wanted to tell the others and the entire world for a while, and then he gets slapped in the face with frozen fear of ever letting anyone know how far deep he is. Imagining the sight of Harry’s face when he fucks it all up. He knows for a fact that he couldn’t handle it.

She doesn’t let him dwell on those thoughts. “Do you feel better now? That you’ve shared? You’ve been a little tense all night.”

Louis nods. “I do. Thanks for listening and for… you know, keeping quiet about this.”

She looks ahead, smiling like she’s satisfied with her progress. “It’s fine, I was in a closeted relationship for _years_ in high school, I know how confusing things can be. Not saying this is the same thing, I just––I get that it sucks. That it’s scary.”

Louis wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because this is really enough, so he just nods, smiling because the words _thank you_ don’t seem sufficient.

Back inside, Louis catches Harry wading through the crowds towards him. Jade yawns and excuses herself to her room, Louis hugs her quickly and tells her thanks – still not enough, but he means it, incredibly, undoubtedly.

Harry’s gaze follows after her, and then fits to Louis. “Hey… I lost you for a moment.”

Louis can’t breathe, he feels fondness cascade over him. “It got a bit crowded in here, we just sat outside for a bit.”

Harry hums. “I think Liam wants to go back to the room, his parents are driving him mental. You coming?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, course.”

. . .

Zayn leans over the sink and splashes water onto his face, feeling like he’s in a face wash commercial. He dabs his face with a towel and clasps his hands around the edge of the counter in the hopes that his heart rate would slow, but it doesn’t help when Niall walks into the bathroom, and Zayn’s heart stutters in his chest all over again.

He situates himself in front of the mirror next to Zayn after throwing his clothes in the washing machine in a sad attempt to tidy Zayn’s perfectly cluttered room, he’s clad in nothing but boxer shorts with the _Autobot’s_ logo all over them, and Zayn can feel goosebumps spread over his own bare skin.

“Do you have a shirt I could steal?” Niall asks after brushing his teeth with his finger.

“Um,” Zayn pauses squeezing toothpaste onto his brush and glances past him to the pile of dirty and clean clothes on the floor of his room. “Try Louis’.”

When Niall returns a minute later, he’s slipping on another shirt that Zayn has never seen Louis in, and looking down at himself quizzically. “Hey, this is the shirt I got for Harry, got it at Yellowstone national park,” he says, the t-shirt a faded blue with the words: ‘ _Geyser’s really blow…’_

“You went to Yellowstone?” Zayn asks.

“Yup,” Niall nods, licking along his still-red lips. “Weird. I swear he has more clothes here than at his actual house.”

Zayn hums, placing his toothbrush back in its holder. “Yeah, he’s like, always here. I don’t mind or anything, it’s good that they’re getting along so well – and he cleans up after Lou so that’s a bonus.”

Niall starts brushing some sort of product through his hair with his fingers, Zayn watches him in the mirror and Niall smiles when he catches him looking, washing his hands off in the sink. “Does he sleep here? Because I checked on him the other night and his bed was empty.”

“I think so?” Zayn says with warm cheeks, ripping his eyes away and strolling onto his bed, pulling the messy covers over himself. “They watch a lot of movies in Louis’ room so I assume he just falls asleep there.”

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning forward to find Niall in his gaze. “Now are you coming back to bed? I got up way too early this morning, need my sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Niall says, his voice half-giggles. He hurries back to the bed, resting his chin on Zayn’s shoulder, hands around his waist, ducking in for a kiss.

. . .

Back in the room, Liam crashes straight away, succumbing to a mixture of exhaustion from socializing and exhaustion from being around his parents. Harry walks out of the bathroom in sweats and a t-shirt and Louis sits up on his bed and whispers goodnight to him. He watches Harry shift under the covers next to a snoring Liam, switching off the light and fading into grey.

Louis closes his eyes but doesn’t feel the same kind of weight of sleep like the others. His phone vibrates once and he doesn’t want the light to wake anyone up so he takes it out onto the balcony, leaning against the wall and sliding down it until he’s sitting on the ground.

_Mum: It’s been a while baby, is everything okay? Wedding planning is going well if you’re interested, but I do understand otherwise. I want you to know I’ve spoken to Mark about the way we left things and he's made me realize that I was a bit unfair to you, not just the first time, but every other time after that, and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not saying I was completely in the wrong, but I am willing to talk about this properly. If you’ll let me. He wants to meet you, and I know you have a lot to say as well. Call me when you can, mum x_

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and presses his phone to his chest. He doesn’t reply just yet, it doesn’t seem fair when nothing is really making sense, and he’s tired, and he’s confessed so much tonight already. He’s definitely had enough of his heart being poured out onto the pavement for one day.

He sighs heavily. Choking in ocean air, crescent moonlight, lighting a cigarette and letting it burn his throat. _Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic…_

Time slips past him slowly, but exhaustion never follows, though he must be drifting off into some distant headspace because he barely registers the footsteps until Harry is standing right above him.

“Can’t sleep?”

Louis looks up at Harry, concerned eyes looking down at him. He shrugs, stubbing out his cigarette.

Harry sits down directly in front of Louis, his legs crossed in the same way, knees touching Louis’, their gazes meeting. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Louis breathes out, hoping the twisting knot of anxiety will exit just as easily.

Harry sighs, reaches forward a little and twists his fingers together with Louis’. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies.

But of course Harry can tell. “No you’re not. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” Louis says with a sigh.

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, not looking away. “’s okay, you know, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sometimes Louis hates that he’s so wonderful. “Are _you_ okay? You haven’t really spoken about it since we got back,” Louis says, not having to address what _it_ is.

“You know I’m going to see her in a couple of days.”

“That’s not the same as talking about it.”

Harry nods. “I know it’s not. I don’t know what there is to say,”

Louis moves so that he’s next to Harry, resting his head against his shoulder, Harry’s head against his. “Tell me how you’re feeling,”

“I honestly don’t know, I’m trying to work out how I _should_ feel but it’s probably not worth it until I actually talk to her, I’m just… sad.”

Louis breathes heavily. “I hate that you’re sad and there’s nothing I can do,” he mumbles quietly into his neck.

“I know,” Harry says, quieter.

Louis slouches back, his heart pounding wildly for no good reason. Sometimes he wants to tell Harry everything, all of his fears, even the ones he doesn’t want to admit to himself. This is one of those times, so a distraction would be really, really good right now.

And just like that, Harry gets to his feet, pulling Louis up by their interlocked hands. They pause, and it’s silent, and Louis isn’t able to register the rest of the world. Just the ink black sky threaded with grey and the pale moon and Harry.

And then –

“I’m going for a swim.” Harry says.

Okay.

Louis shakes his head once. “No. You’re not. It’s the middle of the fucking night, that’s how people _die.”_

Harry grins wickedly. “It’ll be fun, I’ve never swum at night before.”

“For a good reason, I’m guessing.”

“Do something new everyday is a good thing to live by in my books,” he says, sliding open the door back into their room.

“That doesn’t mean give yourself hypothermia.” Louis whispers as he follows him.

Out in the hallway, Harry takes the edge of Louis’ fingers between his and tugs him along gently. It’s all lit up with yellow lights and gold wallpaper, pretending to be warm when it’s actually the opposite. “It’s sweet that you care, but I’m going anyway, the only thing you can do is come with me and make sure I don’t drown.”

“That’s really unfair,” Louis says, mouth drawn into a hard line. It doesn’t last long, of course, because in the elevator, his lips on Harry’s, hands on Harry’s skin, he doesn’t even remember what it was he was frowning about.

. . .

On the edge of the beach, toes digging into the stones along the shoreline, Louis watches Harry pull his shirt off.

He doesn’t make much of an effort to look away. It’s something else out in the moonlight, the shadows work their way along Harry’s toned muscles, the harsh black tattoos and defined hips, the white light glowing and dancing over his skin. Louis swallows through his dry throat. Nothing feels real.

Harry drops his jeans as well, only in a pair of thin black briefs, and when he starts heading for the water, Louis huffs indignantly and reluctantly abandons his own shirt and jeans on the ground, following after Harry.

When the black water swallows up his bare feet and hits against his ankles, he is suddenly brought back to rational thinking. Like, the kind that says: _“don’t follow strange boys into the ocean late at night,”_ and he’s cursing himself because he’s already nearing on waist deep, following the silhouette of long hair and broad shoulders, half of his body disappearing where the water mirrors the glimmering stars. He’s going to kill him.

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” he calls after Harry, and gets no response.

The water is just up to his shoulders when he reaches him, the boy has stopped and is just watching the water like it’s telling him something important. The soft, small waves shift them slowly, rocking them, and Louis watches Harry look up at the sky.

Harry turns to him when he notices his presence, grinning wide, then he drops under the water, and Louis feels his arms snake around his waist and pull him under too. It’s not so cold anymore because his body is essentially void of all feeling, but saltwater gets in his mouth and when he resurfaces, his hair is plastered to his head, which he sweeps to the side with one hand, and Harry’s hair is half over his face.

“I hate you,” Louis says, pushing Harry’s hair out of his face so that he can see him. “I actually hate you.”

Harry’s grin doesn’t falter, he moves in closer, “no you don’t,” his lips brushing against Louis’, numb and cold, and holding Louis’ face between his hands, letting him nudge forward but not all the way, pretending to hold him back.

“I do,” Louis whispers, closing his eyes against the moonlight, pressing his hands hard against Harry’s waist. “I really, really do,” and Harry kisses him slowly, open-mouthed, holding his neck, water from his hands and Louis’ hair trickling cold down his back. The entire lengths of their bodies press together and Harry catches Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away.

“You taste like smoke.” Harry says, scrunching up his nose.

Louis snorts and pushes him away with a small splash. “This is too fucking cold. I cannot believe you made me swim out here.”

Harry gapes. “ _Made_ you?”

“You basically said you’d drown if I let you go alone. And any self-respecting human knows it isn’t safe to swim alone at night, contrary to popular believe, I don’t want you to drown.”

Harry feigns shocked. “You _don’t_ want me to drown? That’s so sweet of you!”

“Shut up,” Louis mutters fondly, nodding towards the shoreline. “Come on, you’ll catch a cold.”

Harry follows him out. “Do you feel better though? The ocean is meant to like, give our brains a cognitive break. So we’re not processing all of the information thrown at us on land. All of the negative shit.”

Louis looks at him, flashes of white from the moonlight bounce off of the ocean. “Why are you being smart at midnight? You’re not allowed.”

“I’m always smart.”

Louis smiles, eyes flittering away. “And to answer your question, yes, I do feel better. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They let the air outside dry them off so they wouldn’t drip through the lobby and slip their clothes on uncomfortably. Back in their room, Liam is still sleeping soundly, and in the bathroom Harry sits on the edge of the bathtub and peels Louis’ clothes away from his damp skin. Undressed, they stand in the shower together, warm water gushing over numb cold bodies, and Louis groans when Harrys fingers curl around his cock.

“Shh,” Harry whispers, kissing him. “Want to wake up the whole building?”

Louis grins a little, the words: _I don’t care_ hanging on the tip of his tongue.

Harry thumbs the slick head of his cock, and Louis presses his forehead into Harry’s shoulder, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering. Harry trails kisses along his chest, flicking his tongue over his rapidly beating heart. Louis hopes Harry doesn’t feel it as vividly as he does.

Harry trails his swollen lips down Louis’ stomach, dropping to his knees, and Louis has to lean against the back of the shower to steady himself, biting hard against the inside of his mouth to muffle his moans when Harrys lips trace near the base, keeping their gazes fixed. He strokes his length idly; licking occasionally until Louis’ cock is rigid, wet warmth following each time.

“ _God_ , Haz,” Louis moans, panting against the water trickling over his mouth. He finds Harry’s hair, gripping, just enough to not hurt, jutting his hips forward once.

Harry leans in further, licks from the base to the tip, sinfully slow, sucking almost tentatively on the head and then moving back down. Dragging his lips over him, gradually, the heat causing Louis to moan shamelessly, using his own hand to cover his mouth but Harry doesn’t relent, hollowing his cheeks, squeezing Louis’ hips, and Louis is unable to look away. Harry works into a rhythm, working his mouth up and down, taking him in deeper, his lips red and glistening and watching Louis with just as much focus.

Louis’ eyes flutter shut, a sudden wave of pleasure startling him, Harry’s mouth still moving, groaning softly around him, muscles tensing and quivering and not letting up.

Louis has to bite his lip roughly now, holding his breath, his entire body shudders almost as a shock to himself. Harry keeps going, more and more and more – he chokes back a whimper, hearing Harry’s eager moans, his fingers shake – gasping as he comes in Harry’s mouth. Harry slows, and eventually Louis feels his arousal subside. Harry pulls off with a slick noise he gets back to his feet, having gotten himself off with his own hand.

“You’re amazing,” Louis mumbles against his mouth, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, under his chin. Everywhere. He doesn’t think it’s enough.

“Same to you,” Harry replies, grinning, breathing so heavily, so dazed Louis doesn’t know who’s breath he’s hearing.

. . .

They dry off, get dressed and head back into the room where Liam is, still quiet, still asleep. They sit on Louis’ bed and hold hands and don’t say anything. Louis checks his phone to make sure there aren’t anymore emotionally pressing texts, but he feels so unbelievably settled, so much more than he was an hour ago. He leans up and presses a kiss to Harry’s temple.

Harry turns to him, looking at him in the dark. “What was that for?”

Louis shrugs. “You know,” he says quietly, and maybe Harry doesn’t, but he doesn’t say. Good. It’s good.

Harry pulls him close, trailing kisses along the side of his face, lightly brushing his lips against his skin and stopping at his temple. _Yeah, he does. He knows._ Louis sighs contently, wanting more than anything for Harry to leave or something, because Louis knows now he won’t be able to do it.

In his typical contradictory fashion, Louis instead says: “I want you to stay,” and his voice comes out so quiet he’s not even sure he actually said anything.

But Harry looks at him now, so okay, he did. “What?”

“Just… until I fall asleep?”

Harrys face softens. “Yeah. Of course, Lou.”

Louis sits up to shift under the covers, lying on his side so that he’s facing Harry and Harry settles against the headboard, his legs outstretched along the bed. Louis finds his hand again, clutching it like he can’t sleep without it. He feels childish and needy, _god,_ he’s never felt like this before. He’s never been the one that’s too afraid to sleep without the other, the one with the heavy heart and butterflies. Nothing about it is right because he’s terrified, but he’d feel so wrong if it was gone.

Harry squeezes his hand and he falls asleep to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

. . .

Orange light pours into the hotel room, Louis feels soft sheets against his skin and something warm pressed against him.

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry ––_

Eyes open, Louis sees Liam still snoring in the other bed, soft and steady, so Louis reaches over and brushes the hair from Harrys forehead, he can still smell his shampoo from last night, just that alone is enough to rattle Louis down to his bones. He leans forward and presses his lips to the top of Harry’s head.

Harry stirs beneath his grip, smirking and nudging his head up until Louis is kissing his mouth instead. His lips smothering him, fingers already awakening to explore everywhere he wants him to touch. Instinctually, Louis presses back, sliding their tongues together, breathing harder.

“Lou…” Harry moans quietly, arching his hips forward, heat and pleasure curling in Louis’ gut and every inch of his body. “Talk to me baby,”

Louis isn’t sure what he means by that, but he can guess easily enough by the way Harry is only breaking apart to whisper sweetly into his ear, hips rutting against him, and arousal spreading and engulfing him entirely. “I want you,” Louis _whimpers,_ breaths jagged, fingers itching to shift lower. “I want you, I want you, only you,”

“Not what I meant,” Harry grabs his hands when they find the waistband of his briefs, holding him back.

Louis kisses his cheek, whispering, “I need you,” into his ear.

Harry giggles. “Warmer,” he says, and grinds his hips forward again.

Louis groans, trying to kiss Harry again but he pulls back far enough for Louis to see how he’s looking at him, and it’s entirely possible that he’s never felt anything so irrevocably. “I love you, Harry. I’m so in love with you.”

“Better,” Harry smiles. “Better, better…”

 

Louis’ eyes shoot open, his stomach plummeting in a surge of blazing heat.

_What the actual fuck?_

He sits up, panting, clutching his chest to try and catch his breath. He glances over at Liam and Harry who are fast asleep in their own beds, and then grabs a pillow and clutches it between his chest and his knees.

No. _No, no, no, no –_

He doesn’t know how long he stays frozen like that, completely paralysed, but the room starts to get brighter and brighter, sun in his eyes, and eventually he rolls back onto his side, thinking  _fuck, what am I doing?_ closing his eyes and remembering how to breathe.  _What am I doing?_

The surrounding world slows, the sun rising higher in the sky, and he tries to pretend he's been asleep the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next couple of chapters outlined and I promise the boys do divulge more into the _feelings_ realm of discussion! Whether thats a good or bad thing though... 
> 
> Anywaaaay, yay for Ziall <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update! I'm in my last year of an art degree (haha) so it's been hectic and I'm slowly dying inside. But alas, when I should be doing a thousand other things, I'm writing this fic. Because it's winter, and I'm getting a cold, so I needed something to make me feel better :) Also, I've written most of the next chapter, because it was going to be part of this one but I split it up, so just an fyi, that one will be up within the next week or so. Thanks for the lovely comments so far, they've made this even more fun to write <3

"Rise and shine, Tommo!"   

Liam yanks the curtains open, and although Louis hasn’t  _actually_ slept, it’s still fucking annoying. Liam grabs his bag and heads for the shower, while Louis pulls the duvet over his head and groans unhappily into it.   

He feels a weight next to him, dipping the mattress, and a hand slipping under the covers and around his waist. Harry lifts the duvet from his face and tilts his head at him. 

“Bad sleep?”  

“Something like that,” Louis mumbles, a sleepy half-smile on his face.   

Harrys eyes glitter in the morning light, but he fits a heavier gaze on Louis and moves closer, Louis tries to stay calm when Harrys hands around his waist press harder. It's very distracting. "Wanna talk?"  

Louis shakes his head, smiling as convincingly as he can, he tilts his head forward on the pillow and touches their lips together, holding the back of Harry’s neck and keeping him there in a lingering kiss.   

Harry groans and leans over Louis, kissing him hard, mumbling against his mouth, "you're distracting me."  

"I'm not," Louis presses his lips to the corner of Harry's, "we're fine."  

Harry pulls back a little, searching Louis' face, his necklaces dangling in front of him. "Are you sure? Because you usually sleep like a baby after you orgasm, it's like, proper science that people sleep better when they–"  

"These facts are really turning me on,"  

Harry giggles, rolling back onto his side. "We learnt all about hormones in class the other day,"  

"Right," Louis says, smiling, and hoping dearly that this topic was avoided. He reluctantly pushes himself up from the bed, sitting on the edge, feeling Harry shift up behind him and nuzzle against the back of his neck, kissing him there. Louis shivers. “Leave me be, you giant excuse of a human being,”  

He feels Harry smiling against him and palms sliding over him, in an attempt to pull him back down.   

“I need to shower,” Louis says, in a half-assed attempt to get out of Harry's grip.   

Harry twists his hands in Louis' from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Liam’s in there, unless –  _oh_ is that what this is? You and Liam?”   

Louis snorts and lets go of Harry, getting to his feet. “Shut up. There's another bathroom down the hall.”  

“Okay, careful you don’t get lost!” Harry calls after him, grinning stupidly as Louis grabs his bag and heads out.   

In the bathroom, he locks the door behind him and leans against the wall, pressing his hands to his face as if that will suppress everything he’s feeling. God, he needs to  _chill the fuck out._ He runs water through his hands and scrubs it over his face, his breathing all jumpy and constricted, he doesn’t know why, he's completely _fine._ Its just. Its just like none of it's  _real_  – he’s never had anything  _be_ real, or be much of anything. Aiden was something, he thinks – or. Or he wanted him to be. But that wasn't real either, even his own mother made sure to tell him that when The Break Up happened.

Who says that to their own  _son?_ Who imposes their own bitterness onto their kid and invalidates their feelings like that?  

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it out, so hard that he can feel it start to sting.   

 _I’m proper fucked up now,_ Louis thinks, wanting her to hear him.  _I hope you’re happy._   

And now she’s getting married and trying to seek some sort of forgiveness to clear her slate through a  _text._ And Louis was actually considering accepting that as enough. Wow.   

He tries not to spend a noticeable amount of time in the shower, but its hard, when the water falls over him and he doesn’t feel like its enough to get rid of the redness in his eyes. He wants to clear his slate too, it’s just not that easy.   

. . .  

Louis astounds himself with how easily he’s able to avoid someone without really realising that he’s doing it.   

Thing is, straight after he got back from his shower, they had to hurry downstairs and have breakfast –– of which Louis sat snugly between Liam and Jade and didn’t look up from his eggs to meet Harrys eyes across the table. Again, not even realising what he was doing until  _after_  –– and in the convention hall, luckily there were a lot of speakers to sit through so it couldn’t have been startlingly obvious that Louis wasn’t speaking to Harry the entire time. He didn’t  _mean_ to, it just. It just happens.   

Its not until he’s on the train that it actually hits him that he hasn’t said much to Harry since their morning encounter. He is maybe a little  _tiny_ bit mad at himself. Because okay, look. He’s  _fine,_ totally. Completely. And he’s said he wasn’t going to do this anymore, _they've_  said they weren’t going to close each other out, so it isn’t fair to Harry at all, and Louis is, decidedly, the worst.   

Louis watches the sun setting from his window on the train, hoping somehow that Harry didn’t even notice his weird behaviour all day. Except that’s a stupid thing to think, because Harry always does, but he’s fucking amazing and respectful and he always gives Louis time to work it out. Louis could be a complete and utter coward and not address this until  _after_ Harry comes back from visiting Anne, but unresolved conflicts are really, really not good.   

He waits for Liam to leave to show the others a video on his phone before sitting down next to Harry. He leans against him, so that the sides of their bodies are pressed together and by some force of habit, Harry tucks his arm over Louis’ shoulders, then tilts his head down to look at him, in that annoying way that he does that makes Louis feel like he's the entire universe.  

“Hi,” Harry says, and it's fine, it’s perfect, it’s completely unfazed, and Louis  _hates_ it.   

Louis stares at him, then flattens his hand over his face and groans into his fingers.   

“What? What’s the matter?” Harry asks, immediately concerned.   

Louis drops his hands and frowns at him. “God, shut  _up._ You’re too  _good._ ”  

Harry’s forehead creases. “Sorry?”  

“No,” Louis shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand at Harry. “No, don’t do that. You’re wonderful, I’m an idiot.”  

Harry purses his lips. “I’m confused, but yes, I agree. You are an idiot.”  

Louis’ just frowns further, and it's entirely because Harry is the best person he’s ever known and this is truly, truly a terrible thing.  

Harry flattens a hand on Louis’ knee and looks at him, more seriously. “Hey, I was joking, what’s up?”  

Louis sighs. “I’ve been stupid, you know how I just freak out about things?" 

Harry nods, leaning in closer and taking Louis’ hand in his other one, running a soothing thumb of his knuckles. “Yeah, I know. It’s fine, Lou, you know I’m fine with it.”  

“I know that, but s’ like, sometimes I don’t even realise that I’m freaking out until after it’s happened. I think I ignored you all day.”  

“Oh you did,” Harry says straight away.   

Louis looks at him, frowning. “Well, why didn’t you say something?”  

Harry smiles softly now, thumb pressing into Louis’ leg in small circles. “Because I was worried it’d make it worse, I figured you needed time to deal with whatever it was, and look, that’s what happened,” Harry quickly leans in and pecks Louis on the cheek. “I’m magic.”  

Louis raises his eyebrows as he watches Harry sit back in his seat looking pleased with himself. “I think you actually are.”  

. . .  

When they arrive at the station, it’s just Zayn waiting for them in the van parked across the road. The sky is dark and they say their goodbyes to everyone else and head towards their ride, headlights flash in Louis’ eyes when Harry takes his hand and they all run across the street, only letting go when they get to the door.   

Zayn greets them extremely cheerfully, uncharacteristically cheerfully actually. His music is blasting on the way home while Liam sits in the front and recounts him on their trip. Harry slots himself between Louis and their bags, his hand covering Louis’, and it stays that way for the rest of the ride.   

When they get home, they stop outside the houses, and Louis doesn’t know which one to go into first, because the one that he  _should_ go into looks sort of dead or as if someone died in there (he doesn't honestly know why they're still paying rent on that place) and the other looks like the kind of place someone would raise a family – save for the slightly unaccommodating neighbourhood – with the lights on and the silhouette of someone in the kitchen.   

He goes for the latter, dumping his suitcase on the ground in Harrys room and sitting at the breakfast bar downstairs.   

Niall says he’s cooking them a ‘welcome home’ dinner while he slaves over a hot stove after a long, long hug.   

“It’s been  _two days,_ ” Louis says, when Niall acts like they’ve returned from war.  

“I have separation anxiety, what can I say?” Niall says, sliding a dish into the oven. “Z, can you pass me the salt?”  

Zayn is on his way to give Niall the salt shaker when Niall pulls him in by the bottom of his shirt and plants a big kiss straight on his lips.  

Liam drops the cutlery he was about to set out on the table. “ _Whoa!”_   

Niall grins widely and then tries to casually go back to what he was doing, and Zayn just raises his eyebrows, a hint of pink across his cheeks, and he saunters over to the dining table, high-fiving Louis along the way. “Get it, man.”  

Louis shares a glance with Harry who is trying his best to act like he’s surprised, though both of them definitely already knew. He does wonder, though, if anyone else has the same idea about them.   

During dinner, Liam pesters Niall and Zayn with questions, and Zayn just bites his lip and shrugs like he doesn’t care while Niall fills in every detail ––  _too_ many details. He then somehow moves on from the topic to ask them how the seminar was, and how Liam’s parents were, and Louis feels like a complete and utter void in the conversation. The only thing playing on his mind is crying in the bathroom and watching Harry in the water, against the moonlight, and the sense of safety he felt in his arms.   

His train of thought drifts back a few years, to when Harrys curls were more wild and he’d always blush whenever Louis would get that close to him. When they’d hug to say goodbye after class, or in their silly mattress forts and their hands would touch, Louis would fall asleep on Harrys shoulder and he’d wake up to find the other boy with burning cheeks.   

With the way things are now, he can’t help but wonder what any of that meant. He looks at Harry sitting next to him, engrossed in the conversation, and it’s the same boy from all those years ago, silly dimples and all. This warmth in Louis’ chest, this  _fondness_ , is so overwhelming it burns straight through his core. It’s startlingly familiar though.   

On the couch, Niall swings his legs over Zayn’s lap, absentmindedly tracing one of his tattoos while they watch  _The Bourne Identity_ _,_ and in the dark, hands hooked together under the blanket, Harry grins as he watches their friends and whispers in Louis’ ear, “young love.”  

. . .  

Harry doesn’t bother unpacking the bag he took to Brighton when they head up to his room after everyone else has gone to bed, just throws in a few warmer clothes and his favourite sweater of Louis’.   

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you," Louis says after a few tentative moments. "Have you spoken to Liam and Niall about Anne?”   

Harry sets his bag down by the door and turns back to him. “Yeah, I... I talked to all of them actually.”  

Louis blinks. “You did? That’s great. When?”  

Harry bites his lip. “Well, I told Niall when you were asleep the other morning. Liam and I talked in the car on the way back from uni, and Zayn, I just sat in his studio with him for a bit and gave him the lowdown. He was probably the coolest about me not mentioning it earlier, I mean, I know I don’t know him as well but it was nice I guess, he didn’t freak out or anything like Niall and Liam did.”  

“It’s a pretty big deal, Haz…”  

“I know, that’s not… that’s not what I meant. There’s not a lot of ways to react to: ‘ _oh_ _by the way,_ _my mum has cancer, that’s why I haven’t spoken about her since we’ve known each other_ _’_ but like. I don’t… I don’t know what it is, I’m just always so weird when it comes to dealing with this. As in, I just don’t. Liam and Niall are always so worried about me, and you are as well – don’t get me wrong, I love that you are, I just… I feel like its nice to talk to someone who doesn’t expect me to say so much yet I feel like I’ve already said enough. Does that make sense?"  

Louis nods. “Yeah it does, I get it. Do you… want me to stop talking to you about it?”  

“No, that’s not at all what I want, I need you to make me talk or I never will," Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis' shoulders. "I don’t want you to change at all, you’re perfect.”  

Louis turns away, pretending to throw up.   

Harry just laughs and pulls Louis back against him and kisses everywhere except for his mouth until Louis gives in and kisses him back. They get the rest of Harry's things ready, and while Harry checks up to make sure all of his papers were submitted, Louis sits next to him, leaning his chest against Harry's side, his chin on Harry's shoulder, drawing on his skin with a ballpoint pen, “so that you have something to read on the train,” he says, finishing a long letter on Harry's forearm full of nonsense, signing it with an  _L_.  

In bed, his fingers ghost over the shadows casted along Harry's chest, he closes his eyes and feels his brain fizzle out when Harry’s hands brush over him too, feather light yet so much that he can hear himself breathing. Floating in between consciousness, he doesn’t remember anything else about Harry in that moment, just that he’s there now, safe with him, and when he doesn’t remember, in his bones, he feels like he could have the courage to face this.  

. . .  

Harry wakes Louis up before sunrise, and Louis blinks his groggy eyes and rubs the crick in his neck, frowning at Harry for waking him so early until Harry kisses him to make it better.   

They quietly get dressed, share a couple of pieces of toast, Louis pours hot tea into a travel mug and sits it in the cup holder of the van while he turns the key in the ignition and hears the engine rumble along with his heartbeat because, well. He really doesn’t want Harry to go.  

He’s a walking contradiction, because  _of course_ he wants Harry to go, he needs to spend time with his family and a little separation might even be healthy for them, but like, they haven’t spent this much time apart in a long time, he doesn’t want to know what it will feel like.   

He carries one of Harry’s bags for him when they get to the station, the sun rising in the sky, hidden behind a layer of fog. While they wait for the train, Louis sets down Harry's bag on the footpath where they’ve stopped, and he curls a hand around Harry's shoulder, pulling him in, hugging him close to his body, flattening his hands on his back so tightly he’ll have to be physically removed.  _Good,_ Louis thinks.  _That's good._   

He barely pulls away, just allowing enough space to press their lips together. He kisses him slowly, unthinkingly, savouring him, just breathing and breathing him in and letting their lips slide together easily, because it’s suddenly all he knows how to do. He knows people are looking, he knows none of them know him, he knows there isn’t a lot he can do to not kiss Harry right now.   

“I’m only going for a few days, Lou,” Harry murmurs gruffly against his lips.  

“Yeah I know,” Louis says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going to miss you at all.”  

Harry giggles and sways Louis side to side in his arms. “I have to go, babe,”  

Louis’ heart jumps, he doesn’t know if it’s from that word or how much he’s going to miss Harry. He sighs, warm breath against Harry’s neck. “Okay.”  

Harry chuckles again, quieter. “That involves you letting me go.”  

Louis frowns, the thought of losing his safety – his  _anchor_ , it doesn’t seem fair. But he still has his head tilted down so he doesn’t think Harry can see. “Does it? That’s a shame, I don’t really want to.”  

“Clearly you’re not going to miss me.”  

Louis laughs weakly. “Not at all.”  

When they kiss for the last time, Harry turns around to wave about five times before he disappears in the train, Louis’ heart jumps again and he knows its because of how much he’s going to miss Harry. Louis can’t see him in his seat but he waits anyway, lifting his hand to wave as the train leaves.  

Back in the van, Louis is suddenly very aware of Harry's absence. He clutches his chest and tells himself four days isn’t a lot. But still, he calls Harry after a few minutes, and when he answers, Louis does  _not_ sniffle.   

Into the phone, he says the only thing he can say:   

“Okay, I miss you.”  

. . .  

“And did you  _slap_ her?” Louis says during another phone call that night, listening to Harry recount an older lady on the train who said he had very long hair for a boy, in a “distasteful tone."  

Harry laughs. “ _No! Jesus, I’m not you, I don’t go around slapping old ladies for sport.”_

“Well, you’re really missing out on life,”  

“ _No, I think I’m just missing_ you _._ ”  

“Smooth,” Louis says, smiling in the darkness of his bedroom. He could be in the lounge right now, because he doesn’t even think Zayn is even in this house, but being locked up in his room is becoming strangely comforting. Louis is a slave to routine, he supposes. “So how are you though?”  

“ _Good, I would have called you sooner but after Gemma picked me up we went and visited a bunch of relatives. We’re going to the hospital tomorrow, Chris is there now I think_.”  

“Ah, step-douche.”  

Harry laughs again. “ _Yeah. But hey, I gave you a second chance, maybe not everyone is a lost cause._ ”  

“ _Hey,”_   

“ _Kidding_ ,” Harry says, Louis can hear him grinning. “ _It’s so weird being back in my old room, I’m sure if I searched hard enough I’d find some of your things in here.”_

Louis smiles, and without meaning to, he imagines Harry lying on his bed with the green duvet, lean limbs stretched out in thin black briefs, the action figures and photographs on the shelves, blue and white striped curtains, a small gap left open so that a line of silver moonlight stretches along Harrys bare skin. He needs to think about something else. “Keep it to remember me by,” he says instead.  

“ _Ah, right. Because I’m never going to see you again_.”  

“Precisely.”  

They stay up talking for a long time, because fuck. Okay. Louis misses him. Its only the first night in and Louis misses the hell out of that boy. And not even the sex, that’s like, _way_ down on the list of what Louis misses about him. Louis amazes himself with how much nothing they can end up discussing. It’s almost amusing when Louis finally says goodnight for the last time, even when his eyes are incapable of staying open, he thinks he could keep talking.   

“’ _Night, Lou_ ,” Harry says again, and before he hangs up, “ _I miss you_.”  

. . .  

When Louis gets out of bed the next morning, his first instinct is to make two cups of tea. Which is hilariously embarrassing when he remembers Harry is away, and he stands in the kitchen for a few seconds wondering what the fuck is wrong with him.   

 _No one saw that, chill out._   

He drinks both, because it’s just a waste otherwise, and he sends Harry a text as he’s heading out the door.  

 _Louis: Good morning sunshine, you should know I just embarrassed myself in front of the kettle and toaster. Not a good start to an already crappy day._   

 _Louis: and that's certainly not because you're gone._   

He walks into the kitchen next door to see Niall and Zayn up making breakfast. Niall is frying eggs at the stove and Zayn – in Niall’s clothes, Louis presumes, given that he never thought he'd see the day where Zayn would wear a t-shirt for a sports team – he's standing at Niall's side with a hand hooked around his waist.   

“I’m going to be really presumptuous and assume some of that is for me?” Louis asks, sitting at the breakfast bar.   

They don’t detach upon his arrival, but Niall moves away to get some plates out. "Morning, mate,” he says to Louis, and ducks a kiss on Zayn's nose before jogging upstairs. Louis thinks he might actually see little cartoon birds circling Zayn’s head.   

Louis whistles. “Should I expect Christmas cards this year? I know you don’t celebrate but I could see you in a proper hideous sweater and:  _with love from The Hor–_ ,”  

Zayn throws the tea towel at him but doesn’t stop grinning. “Is this like, really crazy?”  

Louis looks at him, perplexed. “What do you mean?”  

Zayn shrugs and jumps when he remembers the eggs, turning off the element and scooping them onto a few pieces of toast. “This. Me. Niall. Dating. We’re friends and we already practically live together, I don’t want this to damage that.”  

Louis takes a plate Zayn’s hands to him, ignoring the thought of how many times he’s asked himself that same question. “Does he make you happy?”  

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you get to be Dr. Phil."

“Does he make you happy?” Louis asks again.   

Zayn sighs. “Yes.”  

“Then that, my child, is your answer.”  

Zayn gives Louis a dead look but kisses his cheek anyway as a thank you and takes his breakfast upstairs. That’s good, because Louis needs a few panicked moments alone to question whether or not he should take his own advice.  

Liam comes downstairs a minute later, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. He takes a plate and sits up at the breakfast bar with Louis.  

“Hey, how’s Harry?” Liam asks.   

Louis quickly checks his phone again, he hasn't gotten a response yet. “Good, I spoke to him last night, he’s going to the hospital today, so.”  

“Okay, well let me know how he goes yeah?”  

“Yeah sure,” Louis says. “Does he not text you?”  

Liam laughs. “He didn’t tell me about his mum having  _cancer_ until a few days ago, I think you’re the only one that’s going to get regular updates.”  

Louis wills himself not to blush, it's easier given that he's more concerned over the strange edge to Liam's tone. 

“I’m not like, mad at him or anything,” Liam hurries to clarify. “I get that it would be hard to talk about. Not mad. Not at all.”  

“I know,” Louis smiles.   

“I just wish he had said  _something_ ,” Liam continues. “It didn’t have to be everything. S’ just, he let me complain to him about things that pale in comparison with my parents, when all along his mum has cancer. I feel like a bit of a dick, like, what must he have thought of me? _”_   

Louis understands how Liam could feel upset. It’s like complaining about forgetting your charger to someone who doesn’t even have a phone. Or something. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, she was supposedly getting better when he met you.”  

Liam purses his lips, eyes narrowing, then he shakes his head. “Not really.”  

“He only kept it to himself because he wasn’t dealing well with it at the time, he found it easier to just have you guys  _there._ You did help a lot Liam, he’d never think any less of you.”  

Liam smiles at him. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m really happy you two are so close now, honestly Lou. Is this kind of what it was like when you guys were mates back in high school?”  

Louis forces a chuckle. “Somewhat.”  

Zayn and Niall stumble downstairs then, hands hooked together, Niall definitely wearing one of Zayn’s ratty old band t-shirts, and standing pressed up behind him while he opens the front door, giggling something into his ear.   

Louis instinctually pulls out his phone to text Harry.   

 _Louis: just a PSA: Zayn and Niall are officially the grossest couple ever. We’re moving._   

. . .  

If Louis had known the extent of Niall’s selfie taking or the detail in which he could describe Zayn’s eyes, he would have never given him his number or his Snapchat username. 

Every time Louis’ phone vibrates while he’s in class, he jumps to see if it’s a reply from Harry, but alas, Zayn is sitting in the music rooms with Niall skipping an Art History lecture, or Zayn is holding hands with Niall while they get Starbucks, or  _did u know Zayn has glow in the dark lightsaber tattoo???_  (Yes. Louis was with him when he got it.)  

Louis bites back the bitter twist of jealousy clawing it’s way out of him and somehow Harrys number appears on his screen again.   

 _Louis: has Niall been sending you as many_ _snaps_ _with the new bf as he’s been sending to me? I’m going to block hi_ _m_ _._   

Harry doesn’t reply though, and Louis has a tiny frown on his face whenever he looks at his phone. When he's sitting at the front desk at work, apparently it’s noticeable.   

“Surely you can last a few days,” Jade says, wheeling the book cart up to the desk.   

Louis looks up from his phone. “What?”  

“Liam told me Harry was heading home for a bit,” Jade says. “I assume his absence is the reason the life has been stripped out of your face?”  

Louis laughs weakly. “Its good, I should get used to it.”  

“Louis, no–“  

“Not being without him all the time, just… A little bit of separation. I think its good.” Louis says, in an attempt to convince himself of that very fact.

“Yeah totally, I guess. Being glued to your phone probably isn't the best start.”  

“Probably not, but I never was one for following the rules.” Louis says with a  _what are you gonna do?_ shrug.

She laughs and makes a whipping motion with her hand before trailing off with her bookcart. Whipped indeed, Louis checks his phone again, wondering how much of a controlling bastard he wants to be.  

 _Louis: Haz, hey._   

 _Louis: how is everything at home? Sorry for the texts, I’m just worried, not hearing from you all day and everything. You okay?_   

He sighs when too many minutes pass, and eventually, he slips his phone back into his pocket.  

. . .  

“I invited everyone over tomorrow night since we’ll all be done with exams, thought it would be nice.” Niall says that night when they get home.   

Liam groans from where he’s reheating something in the microwave. “I’m not in the mood for a party, Ni.”  

“Not a party, just dinner.” Niall clarifies.

“Everyone?” Louis asks.   

“Nick, Perrie, Jade, Leigh-Anne and Josh," Niall says. "They haven’t really been over just to hang out so I figured why not?”  

“I think it’s a great idea,” Zayn says. “Weird without Harry though.”  

Zayn looks at Louis then, who just shrugs despite his heart making a desperate attempt to flee from his chest.   

After dinner, they’re situated in the lounge, Niall and Liam playing _Fifa_ while Zayn busies himself with his sketchpad. Louis’ phone vibrates on the arm of the couch, startling him from drifting to sleep.   

 _Harry: sorry, left my phone in the house and we spent the day at the hospital, Gem was going to let me use hers to text you but I couldn’t remember your number. Skype?_   

The relief Louis feels is almost embarrassing. As is the speed in which he types his response.   

 _Louis: yes, god, gimme a minute, I’ll go upstairs._   

He waits until Liam and Niall are back in another round of their game before disappearing off to Harry’s room and finding his laptop under some folded clothes on Harry’s desk.  

“The fact that you haven’t memorized my number is appalling, Harold. I’m hurt.” Louis says immediately into the camera.  

Harry snorts. “Do you know mine?”  

“I’d never leave my phone anywhere,”  

“Sure.”  

Louis studies his face. “You look tired, how was your day? How is everyone?”  

Harry runs a hand through his hair, leaning against the headboard of his bed. “Better than I expected, Gemma and Chris are coping as well as anyone can in that situation. Mum’s in the same state as she was when we saw her, which is actually a really good thing. They left me alone with her for a bit so we could talk, and it was… it was good. I feel better somehow. But then that just makes me feel shitty because I shouldn’t feel fine when she’s sick.”  

Louis bites his lip sadly. “Harry, I don’t think she’d want you to be miserable. You should feel happy, I’m so glad she’s doing well and you got to talk. It’s so good.”  

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry smiles. “I miss you.”  

“Don’t start with that, you know I could have come.” Louis says.   

Harry shakes his head. “You’re still stressing with your studies, I couldn’t have asked you to rush them for me.”  

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles. “I would have though.”  

“That’s the problem.”  

Louis goes to argue, but stops himself. “I hate when you’re right.”  

Harry smiles, pleased with himself. It’s a tired smile though. “I know. So are Zayn and Niall really that bad? I’ve gotten a few photos so I can only imagine.”  

Louis pulls a face. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible. All in love and shit, it’s gross.”  

Harry's mouth stretches into a grin, eyes glittering fondly. “How disgusting.”  

“Right?” Louis says, letting out a weak chuckle, his smile softening. "I miss you too, you know.”  

Harry nods, a lower flicker of something in his eyes. "I know."  

It feels like enough, so Louis nods definitively and sighs back into his pillow, like it’s a weight lifted off his chest. “You look nice by the way, I should have said that at the start –– did I say that? I don’t know. But you look nice.”  

Harrys lips quirk upwards. “So do you. Are you in my room?”  

Louis nods. “My laptop was in here, and I slept in my own bed last night but it didn’t feel right, least not without you.”  

Louis doesn’t expect to see Harry melt in front of him, as if he didn’t expect him to say that. It’s incredibly endearing. “I know how you feel,” Harry says quietly. “So are you just going to sleep with a pile of my clothes or something?”  

“Of  _course!_ However, it was your decision to get with me, Haz, so ask yourself, who's really the one with the problem here?" 

Harry laughs, his eyes are sparkling and it’s stupid and hot and irresistible. “I hate that I’m not with you right now.”  

 _God._   

“Does your door have a lock on it?” Louis asks quickly. 

Harry's smile only grows wider, he gets up quickly and reappears a few seconds later. “Deadbolted.”  

Louis grins and pulls his t-shirt off, easily slipping off his pants as well and kicking them off the bed.   

Harry's eyes follow the entire movement, Louis can see how hard he's breathing. “God. You’re naked and on my bed right now,  _babe._ ”  

Louis wiggles his eyebrows, and watches as Harry loses his own shirt and gets on his knees to deal with his pants. It's not the same as actually being together, but oh well, it'll have to do.

. . .  

Louis is in high spirits by the time he and Liam walk out of their last class the next day. It's probably an understatement to say that he's ready to spend two weeks at this beach place where Liam, Niall and Harry lived for a little while. He’s hoping the ocean will do that thing again – what was it that Harry said? A cognitive something? – whatever. _That._ He’s been texting him non stop all day, Harry’s spent another day at the hospital, and he hasn’t gone into specifics other than: ‘ _it’s good’_ or ‘ _we talked a lot_ ’ but that’s more than enough, in Louis’ regards.   

When they get home, Louis barely has any time to text Harry because Niall has set him to work on making their dining table look 'presentable.' Whatever that means.  

Louis can't help but feel all warm inside when he watches Niall and Zayn in the kitchen together, it feels like that first time he saw them in there and it felt as though he had walked into some intimate moment that he wasn't supposed to see. It's different now though. Easier somehow. And Zayn is happier. Good. That’s good. Louis isn't jealous in the slightest.  

"Welcome to our home!” Niall cheers when the others arrive.  

“We’ve been here before, Niall.” Josh says.  

Niall hits him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Josh, let me have this.”  

Nick is in next, throwing his arms around Zayn and Niall. "Hey guys! Happy you two are finally fucking!"  

" _Oh my god_ ," Zayn mutters, a pained expression on his face.  

Niall mouths  _sorry_ to Zayn over Nick's shoulder and Louis tries really hard not to laugh, smiling happily at everyone as they come in.

They all situate themselves in the lounge, and Louis forces himself not to go upstairs and check his phone because apparently his feelings are  _that_ obvious. Harry will for sure be busy with family things anyway, Louis doesn’t need to feel so attached. He lets himself become involved in the whirl of conversation, and it's strange, because they've never really hung out like thiswith people outside of their tight-knit little group.  

Liam, being the wonderful conversationalist that he is, decides to ask everyone what they're planning on doing with the rest of their lives, obviously never having experienced the dark void of existentialism that Louis himself has fallen into a countless number of times.  

Josh is the first to answer. "Well, I just got a part time job helping with equipment and set up at that Dome place down the street that supports all of those indie bands, it's pretty sick, cause it's like, supporting bands that are just starting out is something I'm interested in doing, so that’s me." 

Niall nods, impressed. "Cool, man. I still have no idea what I'm doing after this." 

"Successful musician and his starving artist boyfriend," Perrie supplies.  

Zayn smiles at Niall fondly. "Sounds perfect."  

"What about you Louis?" Jade asks. 

Louis stares up at the ceiling, trying to formulate a reply. "Teacher? Maybe? I don’t know. It changes a lot." 

Nick manages to haul Louis out of his state of worrying about his future when he says, "well, we all know Harry is going to be the most successful one out of all of us,  _Doctor Styles,_ god that sounds good – hey, where is he?" 

Liam coughs. "Visiting family," 

They don't linger on that, thankfully. Perrie claps her hands together once. "That’s so sweet! I need to get on that, I have a shit-ton of laundry to do back home." 

They talk until the oven dings, and it's safe to say everyone isn't any less than impressed with their personal chef when they all sit at the dining table.  

“You didn’t have to do all of this, this is really nice, guys.” Leigh-Anne says.  

Niall shrugs, setting the last of his dishes on the table. “Its honestly not anything out of the ordinary, no offence, you're all very special,”  

“Wait – you guys do this sort of dinner thing every night?" She asks.  

“Yeah?” Niall says slowly.   

“That’s so lovely!" Leigh-Anne says. "We need to do that, Pez.”  

The night soon melds into Niall informing everyone that he is willing to give out cooking lessons, with discounts for friends. Nick and Zayn get into a debate about art, which leaves everyone else extremely confused, because Nick knows nothing about art, and anything Zayn said was too technical and didn’t exactly register. Liam tries to get everyone to sign up at his gym, unsuccessfully, and Niall and Zayn share small looks of fondness all night. Louis swears he's never seen Zayn blush so much. Could he do that? Could Harry and him actually have that?  

He asks himself that very question all through the night, until everyone except for him, Nick and Jade have all shifted back into the lounge to watch a movie, and Nick is berating on about a girl he's been seeing, but she doesn’t want to be official. 

"Sounds like you've got yourself a real pickle, mate." Louis says, completely unbothered by the whole situation. "Got to respect her wishes though." 

"Whatever," Nick sighs. "At least  _I'm_ getting laid. You should start one of those pacts with Harry, like if you're still thirty and alone then," he threads his fingers together suggestively.  

Louis chokes a laugh and doesn’t look at Jade who is undoubtedly the source of the snickering next to him. "I'll be sure to get on that." 

"In my opinion, I think you're both being really stupid," Nick says. "You're both letting your looks go to waste. And no, I'm not flirting with you, keep it in your pants Louis." 

Louis snorts. "I wasn't worried about that. Never you mind." 

"Like, I get it, maybe you want to wait until you find the right person," Nick says. "But the right guy isn't going to just stumble along, you should put yourself out there more. Especially Harry,  _Jesus,_ it's like the boy  _wants_ to be single." 

"Maybe he does," Jade says, at the same time as Louis says: "what do you mean by that?" 

Nick shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "We have this one class together, and I was trying to set him up with a friend of mine, because they're both fit and would get along perfectly, but he's all like ' _no, not interested,'"_ Nick deepens his voice, in an attempt to sound more like Harry, and Louis doesn’t appreciate it at all. "Like  _dude–"_  

 _"_ I think that’s really good of him," Jade quickly interrupts, probably noticing how much Louis was tensing. "I think he's the type that would want to be friends with someone first, and there's nothing wrong with that." 

Louis breathes a sigh of relief and thanks the heavens for whoever decided to put Jade in his life, she gives him a reassuring smile and he tries to respond the same. It's sort of difficult under the wave of discomfort he feels from being part of a discussion that feels more like they're gossiping about Harry. He doesn't like talking about Harry's 'love life' when he isn’t even there, he doesn’t exactly like talking about Harry  _at all_  behind his back, it leaves him feeling sort of gross. He'd rather be talking  _to_ him, if he's honest. 

He doesn’t get a chance to follow through with that thought and escape upstairs to get his phone, because Jade hastily changes the subject to something completely un-relationship, un-Harry related, and it flows into the next hour. Everyone eventually begins to yawn, and disappear into their cars. 

"Bye, guys! Thanks for tonight, it was lovely," Jade says, pulling them all into one last hug and then getting into the car with Josh. They wave goodbye as they leave, and Louis feels like it was a success, despite the small bump in the road.  

Niall flops down on the couch and lets out a big sigh. "Good night tonight lads, me mum would be proud, I did an actual dinner party," he grabs Zayn by the waist and pulls him down with him. "Which, by the way, she wants to meet you." 

Zayn shoots Niall a bewildered look. "You've already told your parents about me?  _Niall–_ " 

"Don’t worry, I've just spoken about you a lot as a friend," Niall reassures. "I won't say anything until you're ready."  

Louis blinks from where he's still standing at the doorway, trying not to be too obvious in his observations, but –  _is it that easy?_  

Zayn just shrugs. "You can say whatever you want, I don’t mind," he says, and pulls a blanket up to his shoulders. "What are we falling asleep to tonight? Slasher classics or _Scooby Doo_?" 

" _Scooby Doo_  for sure," Liam says instead, jumping down onto his beanbag.  

"I'll see you guys in the morning," Louis says, heading for the stairs.  

"Sleeping in Harry's room?" He hears Zayn ask behind him. 

Louis stops at the stairwell. "Our house is practically unlived in, Zayn. I'd rather not freeze to death." 

"That’s true, and he'd be all alone which isn't fun," Liam points out. 

Louis points at him. "Exactly, Liam. Glad to know you care about my well being." 

He's discovered this house isn't exactly warm either though, and he curls under Harry's covers and finally grabs his phone, pulling out the charger it's been plugged into all night.  

And oh, he feels terrible when he see's how many messages he has.  

 _Harry: hospitals smell really weird. Is it the sick people? Or the cleaning products? I need answers._  

 _Harry: Pigeons trying to steal my sandwich :(_  

 _Harry: a guy at a café flirted with me, felt super guilty even though I did NOTHING I promise!!_  

 _Harry: ok. Silence from you is weird or I'm just doubly paranoid._  

 _Harry: Are you mad about café boy? It was a five minute interaction, honest, and I'm too nice for my own good, you know that (haha) but really. Is it that or is it something else??_  

_Harry: Don’t you dare ignore me Louis William Tomlinson._

_Harry: alright. so like, i'll just be waiting by my phone. text me when you can x._

Louis gives up trying to piece together a text that explains that he couldn’t reply because Jade said he's coming off more obvious than he wants to be and ends up just calling Harry.  

" _I'm sorry for whatever I've done!_ " Is the first thing Harry says when he answers. 

"Oh my god," Louis says, grinning, his chest expanding. "You haven't done anything, breathe Haz," 

" _Is this the 'it's not me it's you' thing, because I will come home_ right now _–_ ," 

"I wouldn’t  _dare,_ " Louis says. "Sorry, we had people over and my phone was upstairs and Niall had me setting up the house all nice and –" 

" _Christ, was the queen visiting?_ " 

"Yes, Nick was here," Louis grins when Harry snorts. "Niall invited a few people over for dinner, it was very weird without you by the way," 

" _That sounds really nice though, I suppose it's a good enough excuse._ " 

"You suppose," Louis rolls his eyes. "So whats this about some guy at a café?" 

 _"Oh boy, lets not talk about that_ ," 

"Was he taller than me?" 

" _Everyones taller than you._ " 

"Harold! I'm offended!" 

The next half-hour that passes is full of Harry recounting the boy at the café who kept trying to ask Harry out, with Harry vaguely avoiding answering in the most ridiculous of ways, and Louis pretends to be offended that Harry would even  _look_ at another guy.  

Louis' phone vibrates in his hand, a snapchat from Niall notifies him across the screen. He pulls the phone away from his ear to view it, and it's, of course, a picture of Zayn sitting next to him watching TV, his head across Niall's lap and captioned:  _he’s my favourite._   

“ _Oh_   _lord,”_  Harry groans.  

“Did you get that?”  

“ _Yup_.” Harry replies, laughing. " _How are they, anyway?_ " 

Louis informs Harry of every detail of the new couple, including the disappearances into Zayn's studio where Louis is certain no painting ever happened, and the time Niall nearly burnt his hand on the element during a kitchen make out session Louis was unfortunate enough to walk into.  

"Though, despite all of that, they're still sort of the same," Louis says. "I'm surprised nothing happened sooner, to be honest." 

" _Maybe something did, I mean. It could have been in secret_ ," Harry says. " _Do you ever wonder that they might know something about us?"_   

"All the time."  

 _"But we're okay?_ "  

"We're okay."  

" _Seriously, babe, tell me if you want to slow down_."  

Louis smiles. "Harry, chill out, things are perfect just the way they are."  

" _You'd tell me, right?_ "  

"Of course." Louis says. "I want you to talk to me until I fall asleep but I'd probably crush my phone or something. I don’t want to sleep in and forget to pick you up." 

Harry snorts. " _Whatever, you wouldn’t forget_."  

Louis laughs. "So full of yourself."  

“ _Hey, Lou_ ,”  

“Hm?”  

“ _You’re_ my _favourite_.”  

Louis rolls his eyes even though Harry can't see. "Oh  _please."_   

. . .  

Louis has been practically vibrating all morning – he’s lost it, in other words. There are five hours until he has to pick up Harry, and he’s wide awake at seven in the morning. What the fuck? It’s absurd, really.

He saunters downstairs after staring at the ceiling started to drive him mad, and Zayn is at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee, reading a magazine.   

“You’re up early,” they both say in unison.  

Louis pauses, grabbing the milk out of the fridge, and stares at Zayn for a brief second, before continuing. “Um. Yeah, couldn’t sleep I guess.”  

“Just a few more hours,” Zayn mumbles into his mug. 

Louis pretends to be very occupied with making a bowl of cereal. “What?”  

“Till he comes back,” Zayn says. “That’s what you’re waiting for right? You’ve been antsy as fuck since he’s been gone. Liam and Niall might be a bit oblivious, but I notice these things.” 

Louis shrugs casually. “s’ just weird when he’s not here. Because like. We hang out a lot. You know.”  

“Mhm.”  

Louis stares at Zayn, trying to decipher whatever is going on in his head. He’s got his customary unreadable expression, but it’s more annoying than usual this time.   

Louis just rolls his eyes and gives him the middle finger. He’s in a good mood, what can he say? 

“I could go with you?” Zayn says, grinning more now. “If you need a friend while you wait to pick him up.” 

“No,” Louis says, admittedly too abruptly. “No, that’s okay.” 

Zayn smirks. “Alright.” 

It feels like  _years_ waiting for a reasonable time to go pick up Harry, sending him little texts all day that hopefully don’t convey how impatient he’s feeling, or how annoyed he is with the small looks Zayn keeps giving him whenever he finds himself pacing and huffing indignantly. If it were any other day, he’d probably try a little harder to throw Zayn off, but it doesn’t seem important today.  

With a little under an hour until Harry gets there, Louis gives in to his impatience and leaves for the station. He needs to buy lunch anyway, so in a way to convince himself he’s not completely obsessed, and to escape Zayn's gaze whenever Harry texts him. Louis repeats his mantra of _h_ _e doesn’t know anything, you’re fine,_  over and over in his head on the drive there. It only helps a little bit. 

He leans against one of the concrete pillars at Harrys stop while he waits. And again, each second that passes feels like far too long. Its not until the train stops that Louis quits focusing on how everyone else around him is bothering him and allows himself to be excited.  

He doesn’t see Harry at first, just hoards of people exiting the train. And then, he spots him behind a pack of old folk exiting the train, patient as ever letting everyone off before him like the polite bastard he is. He's a fucking Disney prince or something, and Louis can't stand it, he's so completely fucked and in amidst forgetting how to breathe when he see's him, he almost forgets that it's only barely been three days.  

He doesn’t  _run_ into Harry’s arms because that’s just ridiculous, and Harry has a heavy bag on and he might topple over. He does, however, light up like a fucking Christmas tree when he sees him, and hug him so forcefully it could shatter the foundations of the earth.   

“Whoa, hey,” Harry says upon impact, clinging him close, Louis can feel him grinning.  

“Sorry,” Louis says, stepping back, only to be pulled in again by Harry. “I just missed you.”  

“I missed you too.” Harry says with his face buried into the crook of Louis' neck, and Louis presses their lips together, because he knows Harry won't do it unless it's okay with him. “You feel so good.”  

“Yeah?”  

Harry licks his lips. “Mmhm. Can’t wait to get you home, lets buy the others tickets to a concert or something so we can have the house to ourselves.”  

Louis laughs airily. “Liam would never, we’re leaving tomorrow, remember?”  

Harry drops his shoulders. “Stuck in a two bedroom beach house with them for two weeks, we’ll never be alone.”  

Louis smiles and shakes his head. “We’ll make it work, we always do.”  

“I guess.”  

“How was Anne?”  

Harry tenses against him. “Later?”  

Louis nods. “Okay.”  

He's vaguely concerned, but all he can do at this point is hug Harry tighter. 

"Hey, can you hold this? I have to go to the bathroom." Harry says, giving Louis his bag.  

“Yeah. I’m gonna’ get some tea,” Louis says, gesturing towards the small café booth off to the side. “Do you want something?”  

Harry nods and Louis slings his bag over his back, then goes to order. The barista smiles widely at him when she gives him their drinks. 

“You and your boyfriend are really cute, just saying.” She says.

Louis freezes. But, okay. What else would that have looked like? Especially to a bunch of strangers. 

“Thanks, we are aren’t we?” Louis says with a small laugh. Might as well bask in having the hottest sort-of-boyfriend while he can.

"Did he just get back from a big trip?” She asks. “We get a lot of those here, it's really cute to watch."  

"Yeah, kind of, it was just three days but it felt like a lifetime, we haven’t really been apart for that long since we started... dating. So. Yeah." Louis feels his heartbeat growing rapidly even though he knows he’ll never see this girl again, this is just so weird to talk about. So weird, so  _good_ and that’s concerning. The word 'dating' feels foreign on his tongue.  

"That’s adorable! How long have you been going out?"  

Louis doesn’t even know what date to use, but he suddenly feels like he’s telling a massive lie. "A couple of months."  

She puts a hand to her heart. "Well, I sincerely wish you a long and happy life together,"  

Louis nods with a smile, feeling more like he's confessed his deepest darkest secrets. "Thank you."  

It doesn’t feel as... terrible as he imagined, however. He feels lighter somehow. When Harry comes back out, Louis beams at him and knocks their shoulders together as they walk back to the car.   

"Well aren’t you smiley?” Harry says, watching Louis with curious eyes.  

"Am I?"  

Harry grins and wraps an arm around Louis' waist. "I like it. It looks good on you."  

Louis wants to say “ _same to you”_ but the words are lost when they get back to the car and Harry is noticeably quieter than earlier. It’s a jarringly stark contrast to how Louis is feeling. He turns away from the road every few minutes, seeing Harry placably staring out the window. He looks sad, and Louis is perplexed, but he keeps his mouth shut for once.  

. . .  

It's not until they've arrived home that Louis realizes what it is. He feels stupid for not thinking of it sooner, that Harry hadn’t talked to his mother in a long time, and she wasn’t deathly ill the last time he did. Of course he isn’t going to be sharing the same enthusiasm as Louis. Of course he’s going to be upset.  

Harry doesn’t seem like he wants to kill the mood when he gets home, despite Louis knowing that the others wouldn’t mind, so he doesn’t bring it up.  

After gorging themselves on Harrys 'welcome home' cake that Niall whipped up, Louis is nursing a food baby on the couch, and Niall, Zayn and Liam are watching the weather reports for tomorrow. Harry has been sitting at the other end of the couch, seeming interested in the weather as much as anyone else, but Louis knows he isn't. He can just tell when Harry's looking at the world but not really registering any of it because of whatever is going on in his head.  

Harry eventually starts shifting to his feet, and Louis is embarrassingly alert when he does.   

“Hey, I might go to bed, I don’t want to be too tired when we leave tomorrow.” Harry says, running a casual hand through his hair.  

Liam looks away from the TV and at Harry. “Shit, you’ve been traveling all week, of course you’ll be tried,”  

“I’m alright," Harry says. "Just should probably shut in early.”  

And again, Louis waits until they’re distracted, before saying he’s calling it a night too, and he joins Harry in his room.  

He doesn’t say anything when he walks in and see's Harry curled up on his bed, not even under the covers, just lying there, hugging a pillow to his chest. Or when he lies down next to him and pulls him into his arms instead, Harrys face against his chest, hands finding their way to his back, in his hair, holding him there in the careful moonlight.   

He brushes his hands softly through Harry’s hair. “Do you need to cry?”  

“No,” Harry murmurs in a quiet whisper, probably because his voice would break if he tried to speak clearly.   

Despite that, Louis feels his wet tears against his skin when he holds him tightly, feels Harry tremble in his grip and he bites his tongue because the comforting words and things that wouldn’t really help are about to come spilling out. Harry doesn’t need to hear any of that. He’s okay. He’ll feel better, and they’ll be okay. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Roadtrip family photo! Louis get out here!” Niall calls from outside.   

They’ve just finished packing the van, and it’s six in the morning, and Louis has never consecutively been up so early in his life. It’s cruel. Niall and Liam are cruel, Zayn is cruel for going along with it, and Harry is cruel for not taking Louis’ side when Louis protested against leaving so early and having that thing about him that Louis can’t seem to say no to. Harry is the worst one, Louis has decided.  

Louis wraps his scarf around his neck and steps outside, locking the door behind him. “Alright, jeez. I’m coming.”  

Niall makes them all take a photo in front of the van, setting a timer and rushing to fit into it, an arm around Liam’s shoulder, the other around Zayn’s waist. Louis looks at Harry quickly, standing next to him with a hand resting on his lower back, because everything has been so rushed this morning he hasn’t had a proper chance to ask if he’s okay. The camera snaps, and he doesn’t think he looked away.   

Niall and Zayn sit in the front of the van, because Niall wanted control of the stereo. The sky slowly paints itself a lighter shade of blue, and both Liam and Harry fall back asleep on each of Louis' shoulders almost straight away. It's sort of endearing, sleeping during car rides isn't usually a thing for Louis though, nevermind how tired he feels.  

Louis spends the ride staring out the window at the blur of green and blue, and occasionally joining in on Zayn and Niall's conversations. Harry wakes hours later when they're driving through a small township, and he just about jumps when he notices his position on Louis' shoulder.  

"Shit, sorry." Harry says, leaning back in his seat.  

"It's okay," Louis replies, smiling. "Welcome back, sleepy head." 

They pass streets off pastel coloured beach houses with mosaic artwork and surfboards leaning against the walls. The town is a lot quieter than usual though, according to a barely awake Liam, it's because of the season. Zayn seems impressed with that, going into a spiel about how excited children just add to the list of things he hates about summer. 

They pull up to a house at the end of a long street, gravel crunching under the tyres. It isn't a big house, but it's charming in a strange way, like Louis can tell how they could see it as a home, the memories might as well have been engraved into the wood. It's a faded verdigris colour, with wooden screen doors and the sandy shore right off the back yard. But it doesn’t lead straight onto the ocean, there’s an estuary cutting through the sand and a road that winds and curves around it further down to the surf beach.  

There’s already a car in the driveway, and Liam says the car stays here all year round. There’s a pile of shoes at the door, which Louis assumes belong to Niall and Liam from years ago. The yellow wooden door is chipped, with stained glass windows, sand still left at the doorstep and a welcome sign next to the door on a piece of driftwood. 

"This is the beachiest beach house I have ever seen.” Louis says when they go inside, and the interior is even less surprising. Wooden walls covered in photo frames, more pieces of driftwood and shells and a fishing pole leaning against a wall, a big worn brown couch in the middle of the room facing a small TV with a crooked antenna.  

"Because you guys are technically guests, I'll take the couch," Liam says dumping his bag on the ground in the living room.  

Niall pulls Zayn along by the hand, rattling on about the view from one of the rooms and disappearing down the hallway.  

“Guess you’re with me,” Harry says, nodding towards the other room.  

Louis smiles delightedly at him and follows him. "Was this your room when you stayed here?" 

"Yup," Harry says, putting his bag down on one of the beds. "Niall and I had this room, Liam and whoever else stayed with us took the other one." 

"Cool," Louis says, sitting down on the opposite bed. "I like it, it's nice. How long were you here for?” 

Harry looks adorably bothered that Louis chose to sit so far away and sits down right next to him. “A few months, got a job at this old camera shop down the road, it was really fun,” 

“Why would you ever leave?” Louis asks, not that he isn’t happy Harry decided to go with Niall and Liam and end up being his neighbour, but it would take a lot to get Louis to leave a place this beautiful, or a job that he loves. It would take a lot of convincing from the others that’s for sure. Though maybe all Harry would have to do is ask.  

Harry hums thoughtfully. “Niall and Liam wanted to study and I’d hate to be here alone. I figured I should do something with my life as well,” 

“You’ve done a lot, Harry,” Louis says. “You’ve done more than a lot of people, myself included. I mean, look at the life you’ve had, look at the places you’ve been,” 

“Inspirational,” 

“Shut up, I’m serious.” 

“I know. I never thought of it that way though. I was going through so much when I did all of that, I was running away,” Harry says, and kisses Louis on his cheek gently. “I didn’t do any of that with you, so it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters,” Louis says. “Your life matters, Haz.” 

Harry sighs and looks away. “Not at the time, I didn’t think it did at the time, I was just like… Existing, or whatever. Didn’t feel like much of anything mattered. I don’t know how long I would have been stuck like that if I hadn’t met Niall.” 

Louis frowns. “But it did matter.  _Does._ It always has.” 

“ _You_ matter.” 

“Your life is more than just me.” 

Harry pulls a face of mock offence. “There's nothing ' _just'_ about you, I’m appalled that you would say that.” 

“Oh my god,”  

Harry giggles and kisses Louis’ smiling mouth. “Come on, Liam will want to go out somewhere for dinner.” 

“Aye aye captain.” 

Harry squints at Louis. “Okay we might be by the ocean but you do  _not_ get to say that,” 

“Not even if I wear a pirates hat?” 

Harry bites his lip. “Only if you're _just_  wearing a pirates hat.” 

. . . 

Liam did, in fact, want to go out for dinner. He takes them to a restaurant with a neon shark above the door and sends them off to a booth while he spends ten minutes chatting happily to the lady at the front.  

“We used to come here all the time,” Niall informs them.  

“Really? Couldn’t have guessed.” Zayn says at the sound of Liam’s loud laughter from the counter.  

“He’s had this flirty thing with her for  _years,_ I swear. But don’t tell him I told you,” Niall says with a wink.  

Liam returns a few minutes later, looking rather pleased with himself. However, that all fades away the moment he sees their expressions.  

“ _What?”_ Liam groans. 

“Who’s that then?” Louis asks with a smirk. 

“Sophia, I’ve known her since I was a kid, and enough with that look, thanks,” Liam says to all of the boys. "We're _g_ ood friends, and I haven't seen her since we were last here. This one time, I ran away from home, and I caught a train here because I didn’t know where else to go, Sophia found me and talked to me until I was brave enough to call my parents. So we're close, is all."

Zayn raises his eyebrows. "Shit, Liam. Wouldn’t have pegged you for a runaway." 

"Harry's run away before," Louis slips in before he can think better of it. Retrospectively, he's not sure if that was a good idea or not, considering the story that follows. 

Harry just presses his lips together trying to suppress a smile, shaking his head disapprovingly at Louis.  

“You have to tell us now!” Niall says, when it looks like neither of them are going to keep talking. 

Harry glares at Louis. “Fuck you. I hate you.” 

Louis gives Harry a look like:  _no you don't._ “Harry failed a maths test so he hid in my closet for three hours, and no, I was not aware of it at the time. Literally only found him because his phone light shone out from under the door.” 

Niall gives Harry an adoring look. “Aw, Harry!” 

“You seriously ran away because of a maths test?” Zayn asks.  

Harry flattens his hands over his face. “Shut up, oh my god. It seemed like a big deal at the time.” 

“What happened when he found you?” Liam asks, looking very intrigued.  

Harry sighs heavily, and Louis almost feels bad. “His mum let me stay the night cause it was getting dark. I was so embarrassed and seriously considering running away from the entire Tomlinson family forever.” 

Or, moreover, they stayed up talking on Louis’ bed while Harry’s mattress was abandoned on the floor, and Harry talked about how his grades getting bad would just be another reason for Anne to be disappointed in him. She never was, Louis never understood that. Harry talked while Louis listened and ran their fingers together in that comforting way that always seemed to calm Harry down. When they were falling asleep, Louis took it as an opportunity to tell Harry he was someone's secret boyfriend. He didn’t even think Harry heard, but he must have because less than twenty four hours later, everything happened, and they weren’t friends anymore.  

God, how horrifying it is that Louis ever let that happen. It did hurt, a lot, but being so fucking terrible to Harry in those years that passed really, really wasn’t worth it, not when  _now,_ now Louis is at this point where he can’t even see his life without Harry in it. He doesn’t know what that means in terms of their... future together. He doesn't know if Harry has thought about it, and at this point he’s a little too afraid to ask, though he’s even less sure what answer he’s more afraid to hear. 

Christ, how the hell did he end up here? Louis blinks a few times and forces himself to tune back into the conversation.  

“… I’ve  _never_ seen someone fit so much in there!” Niall concludes, and laughter erupts from their group. Louis definitely missed out on the context.  

“Eating competition,” Harry whispers to Louis across the table while conversation carries on with the three other boys, obviously noticing Louis’ perplexed and slightly horrified expression.  

“Ah, okay.” Louis says with a small smile.  

Harry tilts his head. “You alright? You zoned out a bit there.” 

Louis nods. “I’m alright.” 

Harry looks like he wants to reach across and hold the hand that Louis is resting on the table, but he slides his hand onto his lap instead, Louis would be the only one who noticed how awkward the movement was. Their food comes a few minutes later, and Louis takes the opportunity to brush his ankle against Harry’s as some form of reassurance, and Harry smiles at him, and it reminds Louis that Harry is okay with this, even if Louis feels like he’s trying to keep it together by his fingertips, even if there was a time when he never thought he’d see Harry again, or when he absolutely loathed the idea of living next to him.  

Louis thinks about leaving home when things got bad, living on Zayn’s couch and getting a flat with him. He thinks about home-cooking and Harrys arms late at night when the room is too cold and he can’t sleep. He wonders if there’s a way home can mean so much more than just a place.  

. . . 

It’s closer to midnight when they get home. Louis is still unsure of the roads they went down, and it’s even harder to tell in the dark. Liam throws the keys on the tray at the end of the counter and disappears beneath a mound of blankets on the couch. Niall and Zayn retreat to their room and Harry pokes his head down the hall, waiting till their door closes, before tugging Louis by the hand and into the shower.  

They wait for the water to heat up, exploring the treasures found in a beach house bathroom: shells and rocks and sand everywhere, plastic toys shoved into the corner of the bathtub, a mosaic artwork hanging on the wall, sharpie marks on the back detailing that it was created by Niall and Liam almost ten years ago.  

Back in the dark of their room, Louis catches Harry before he can lie down on the bed. He weaves his fingers in with Harry's, and presses his lips the spot where Harry's neck meets his collarbone. He kisses him again and again in a trail up his neck, until he's meeting his lips, like he’s searching for something, like he’s trying to cancel out the thoughts telling him he’ll never find it.  

"Day one wasn't so bad," Louis murmurs quietly, grinning into another kiss. 

Harry laughs, wrapping a long arm around Louis' waist. "Says you." 

"Well, yes, and I'm always right, see?" 

Harry smirks. "Then I guess I'll just have to trust you." 

He pulls Louis in then, down onto the mattress with him, these beds are a little old and unused so it creaks when they both land on it. Their towels effectively fall off when they lazily position themselves on the bed. Harry rolls them over so that he's leaning above Louis, his legs bracketing him in, and his tongue traces along Louis' bottom lip, sinking into a searing kiss.  

Louis doesn’t even register what he's doing until Harry breaks the kiss to look down at Louis' fist lazily pulling off his own cock. Harry licks his lips, looking back at Louis with wide pupils and kissing him deeply. He slides his hand down to replace Louis' around his cock, pumping it a few times.  

Louis' breath catches, a rush of heat hitting him abruptly and familiarly, a sense of safety, because it's Harry's hands touching him, and he'd never want it to be anyone else.

Louis lets out a small moan before Harry is clamping his hand over his mouth. "Quiet now, babe." 

Louis dips his head back, biting down his lip to keep quiet. Harry presses a kiss to Louis' bare shoulder, thumbing the head of Louis' cock.  

"Maybe this isn't the best thing we could be doing then," Louis strains a whisper, half-chuckling at the end of that even though he can't bear the thought of Harry's hand leaving him. "I'm shit at being quiet." 

Harry giggles, it's a little hoarse. "I know that better than anyone," he says, ducking his head down to bury it into Louis' neck instead, his lips against his skin. "I can be quiet." 

Louis feels Harry's hand still on his cock and he looks back up at him, meeting his eyes with a strange kind of hopefulness.  

"Do you want me?" Louis asks softly. He still doesn’t trust himself to be able to quietly fuck Harry, but a lot of the time he's more focused on making sure Harry is enjoying it that he manages to keep it down.  

"Of course," Harry breathes, bringing one hand up to cup the side of Louis' face. "Always want you, Lou. Only you." 

Louis' heart thumps and twists simultaneously, like it always does when Harry says things like that. He can't ever be sure how much truth is in a statement like that, but Harry makes it's  _feel_ so true, so real, and it's enough to make Louis melt under his gaze. He can't explain it, he can't explain how powerful it is. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.  

Louis nods, still feeling unable to catch up on his emotions. He gets out from under Harry, ready to lose himself, and be driven senseless the way Harry does just by  _being_ there, just by  _existing._ Because somehow every touch burns hotter with him, and it's never been like this with anyone else, and Louis can't explain any of it.  

He doesn't want to worry about that though, not tonight.  

. . . 

 _Where the fuck am I?_ is the first thought through Louis’ head when he opens his eyes to the blue sky and unfamiliar decor. Safe to say he also isn’t used to the sound of the ocean in the morning.  

 _Liam and Niall’s beach house. Right._  

It registers that he’s sleeping in a single bed squished up against Harry, his feet sticking out in the cool air of the room despite there being so many blankets on them. Harrys arm is tucked snugly around his waist, his face pressed against Louis’ shoulder. Louis pulls a hand out from under the blanket and brushes Harrys hair back gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Because oh, he has been reduced to a sap for this boy.  

It defies any and all rational thought for Louis to feel so good, just by being held by Harry, when the thought of having this with someone, with _Harry_ , is usually something that terrifies Louis. He just wants to stay in bed.  

Louis feels like that train of thought is probably worth delving into further, but it all fizzles out when Harry squints one sleepy eye open. 

“Morning,” Harry says in a gravelly voice. He tightens his arm around Louis’ waist and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “These doors don’t have locks on them, by the way.” 

“And?” Louis says, leaning in to kiss Harry’s lips.  

“ _And_ ,” Harry grins against his mouth. “Niall will probably want us to go to the beach early today so he can surf, or Liam will want to say goodbye before he goes to work. Either one probably isn’t what you’d prefer.” 

Louis hums and nudges his head forward to capture Harry in a kiss again, before reluctantly dragging himself up from the bed.  

Niall did, in fact, want to hit the beach first thing. Liam had already taken the other car to work when Louis leaves the room, so Niall straps his surfboard to the roof of the van and then rushes back to his room for another attempt at waking Zayn, and Louis uses that time to boil the kettle in the kitchen. 

Harry comes out of their room a few moments later and snakes his arms around Louis' waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.  

"Aw, you're making me tea? So sweet," Harry says, grabbing the fresh cup of tea Louis had prepared for himself. But ugh, whatever. Louis is so beyond fucked at this point. 

Harry takes his tea to the breakfast bar while Louis pours himself another one, and faces Harry across the counter. Louis feels like existing like this with Harry has become the easiest thing in his life, while additionally being the most difficult. They’ve just been so  _coupley_  recently, and Louis doesn’t know what to make of it, electing to ignore that it’s even happening probably isn’t the smartest idea. He shouldn't be so surprised, because it's been so many months, and if this were a movie or something they'd at least be in the public hand-holding stages by now.  

"I like it here, lets not go back to uni," Louis says, half-joking because the thought of returning back home is like returning back to a boatload of anxieties. But at the same time, it’s the best place, it’s the place where so many good things happened. Louis feels a familiar and sudden sting of homesickness, even though he’s got everything he needs with him right here. 

Harry looks gleeful. "When we're older, we're definitely getting a beach house." 

Louis almost chokes on his tea, luckily Harry is more occupied by a sleepy Zayn walking into the kitchen, grumbling something that sounds like “good morning” but that seems a bit out of character for Zayn so Louis can’t be sure. He’s not really listening anyway, his heart is pounding loudly in his ears – Harry’s already onto buying a beach house together when they’re older? He can imagine them still being together that far ahead? Louis sometimes doesn’t feel like they’ll last the  _week_ , and that’s got nothing to do with any lack of faith in Harry, its because of the fragile faith he holds within himself between loose fingers.  

Harry thinks about them  _beyond_ this point. Harry thinks about Louis being _his_ forever. That’s… That’s something.  

When Louis drags himself back to earth, he worries that he’d zoned out and missed the entire day, but theres a small conversation flowing between Harry and Zayn, in Harry’s useless attempts at cheering Zayn up when he’s tired.  

As it is, no one is even paying attention to Louis' inner turmoil from Harrys casualness towards the future of their relationship. Zayn's more interested in getting his morning coffee before a day at the beach. He's not exactly dressed as if they were anywhere different than back home, with his skinny jeans, boots and band t-shirt that's torn in so many places Louis is itching for him to just throw it out. He also hopes Zayn knows that sand will find its way into every extra item of clothing he throws on. 

Harry takes off his shirt before they leave the house, only in these sinful pair of yellow shorts, and he waits while Louis excuses himself to the bathroom, needing somewhere alone where he can just calm down.  

Harry just gives him a  _look_ afterwards, the kind that Louis wants to absorb into his skin, the kind that tells him it’s okay. And yeah, definitely feels like something that would happen in a solid relationship, one that could very well last until they’re old and grey. Harry is wonderful, and Louis really, really needs to get a grip.   

. . . 

Niall goes straight for the water when they get to the beach, with his bright yellow surf board under his arm, and it takes exactly thirty seconds for Zayn to start complaining about the sand –– “it’s too grainy,” “it’s getting in my jeans,” –– but that comes as a surprise to no one.  

Louis and Harry spend a few minutes in the water before they realise that, despite the deceptive sun, it isn’t actually summer, and they retreat back to Zayn on the sand instead where the subtle heat is shimmering across the horizon. Zayn has a smaller art kit with him, Louis assumes it was a gift from Niall, and he's dragging a streak of brilliant ultramarine blue across a canvas pad. Louis and Harry sit down on their sand covered towels, and yeah, Louis really hates sand too.  

“Hey,” Harry says at his side, and Louis turns to see him holding up a bottle of sunscreen. “Do you want some on your back? You’re getting a bit red,” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Harry squeezes the sunscreen onto his hands and repositions himself behind Louis, his leg brushing against Louis’ lower back, the touch so careful and yet secure, Louis doesn’t know how it could look platonic to anyone else. Harry rubs his hands over Louis' back, silky smooth from his shoulder blades down his spine. His hands sneak around Louis' waist and over his hips and Louis is enjoying it far too much, he’s just waiting for Zayn to notice, when Harrys hands disappear.  

“Thanks,” Louis chokes. And when he looks at Harry he’s thinking he’d really like to return the favour.  

“You can ask Zayn first,” Harry whispers, and Louis had almost forgotten about those mind-reading abilities Harry possessed.  

Louis smiles gratefully and turns to Zayn on his other side who is still occupied with a painting.  

"Zayn, you need sunscreen." Louis says. 

Zayn doesn’t look up at him, just keeps painting. "No I don’t." 

"Yes, you do," Louis says. "You never see the sun, it can't be healthy to be under it for a full day," 

Zayn lets out an irritated groan and puts his painting down. "Fine, whatever." 

Louis squeezes some SPF30 onto his palm and rubs his hands together, spreading it not so evenly over the skin visible at the top of Zayn's neck, his arms and his face, grinning at the disgruntled expression Zayn is pulling.  

"I'd rather just wear a sunhat," Zayn frowns. "Sunscreen smells weird." 

Louis smiles delightedly at him and shrugs. Zayn lies back on his elbows and slides on a pair of aviators, watching the picturesque scene of his tattoo-less boyfriend in bright blue shorts gliding along the waves on his surfboard. Louis swears if he didn’t know them, he’d never pick them as a couple, but all that manages to do is make Louis’ heart swell even more for them.  

Louis turns his body to Harry, squeezing more sunscreen onto his hands. "Harold?" 

"Lather me up," Harry says with a smirk and shifts around so that he's got his back to Louis. 

"Oh Jesus, don't say that," Louis says, rubbing his hands over Harrys shoulders, spreading it over the shifting muscles on his back and down his spine. He digs his fingers into Harrys hips the lower he goes, massaging into his skin. He _wants,_ god he wants to drag his mouth over his skin, and he has to actually force himself to pull away when all he wants to do is keep his hands on him.  

He settles for lying back on his elbows instead, and finding something therapeutic in watching Niall glide along the waves. He gets so lost in the image he doesn’t even notice Harry get up and go to the van, then come back with an unbuttoned shirt on and a sunhat on top of his head. Louis remembers him wearing that on the first day he moved in, it feels like a lifetime ago.   

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Harry asks when he sits back down.  

"Where?"  

Harry shrugs. "I want to show you around,” 

"Right, yeah, okay." Louis says, slipping on his own t-shirt. "You alright here, Zayn?" 

Zayn nods. “Yeah, I should probably keep an eye on Niall. But if something happens, I'm not going in the water to save him." 

Louis laughs. "Of course not,” and he gets up to follow Harry.  

. . . 

Harry gives him the tour. There are rows of houses that all kind of look the same in terms of beach-house-beachiness (Louis is very technical), and the grass around them is wild and overgrown, untouched from the summer, blanketed in damp yellow leaves, long gravel driveways dusted in sand, folded up chairs on the patio. Harry tells him how busy it is in the summer, and Louis imagines Harry leaning on the rickety balcony of the beach house, skin bathed in yellow sunlight, shirtless and freshly tanned. It’s difficult though, to imagine Harry when he was here the last summer, because he was here without Louis, and Niall was here without Zayn. There’s something unsettling about that thought.  

There's a yellow camera shop that Harry worked at on the corner, on the edge of a broken pavement, and an old woman inside who hugs Harry for so long Louis is almost worried she isn’t going to let go. They walk past a house with an elderly couple sitting on a purple porch, and Harry tells him they’ve lived here for years, and Louis wonders what he’ll be doing at that age, but he doesn’t think about that for too long.  

All in all, its not that big of a town, because they make it to the other end within the hour.  

Harry ends up getting them a free lunch, as neither of them remembered their wallets, mentioning to Sophia that they’ll definitely pay it back the next time they come, but she just shakes her head and says: “heard that one before, Styles.” 

They sit in the same booth from yesterday, sharing a veggie pizza between them and a strawberry milkshake. They talk about nothing, about movies they want to see when they get back, Harrys thoughts on the meaning of life, the origins of Harrys shirt he’s wearing (he got it from a Fair Trade company) which leads him into a rant about unethical fashion and the working conditions of garment makers. Louis doesn’t know a lot about all of that, but watching Harry talk about something he’s passionate about has got to be one of his favourite things. 

They wander down to a football pitch when the sun is starting to set, orange light on the deserted bleacher seating and pink powdery sky framing them. Quiet sounds of the distant ocean and the warmth in their skin cooling slowly with the night time air. If he wanted to, this would be a really nice place to kiss Harry. So he does. While they’re walking, he arches upwards and kisses Harry on the cheek.  

Harry looks at him, that always lovely smile resting on his face. “What was that for?” 

Louis shrugs. “I like you a lot.” 

“I like you too,” Harry says, looking like he wants to say the other thing. “But I’m not fucking disgusting about it.” 

Louis grins and knocks his elbow with Harrys.  

“When kissing in public is like, a  _thing_ with us, I’m never going to be not kissing you. Just so you know,” Harry says.  

“That’ll be a little awkward for everyone else.” 

“I don’t care about anyone else.” 

“Gross,” Louis says. “And also the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”  

“Maybe,” Harry says, and they start walking up the steps to the top of the seats. “Mum remembered a lot about you.” 

Louis almost trips on a step, and Harry leads him to the top seat. They sit down side by side overlooking the pitch and the ocean.  

“You talked about me?” Louis asks. 

Harry shakes his hair out a bit and brushes it back with his fingers. “She asked about who I was living with, and my friends.” 

 _Friends._ Louis winces, despite the unease being entirely his own fault. 

“She did ask if it was romantic with ‘ _that Zayn boy’_ because of the way I described him.” Harry says with a wide grin. 

Louis does his best to look offended. “I’m jealous,”  

“Should be,” Harry smiles. “But she was surprised, when I told her about you. She's glad we’re friends again.” 

"Me too," Louis says, trying not to sigh again at the use of that word. “Do you know when you’re going back to see her?” 

Harry shakes his head minutely.  

“Haz,” 

Harry exhales. "It was just so... it was scary. To see her like that. And I know it's only going to get worse, I know that, but its like. It's like, she's still so much  _her_ but every moment feels like it's made out of glass or something. Every time I see her I feel like it’s going to be the last. I mean, I was there for three days and that alone was too much."  

"I know,” 

“I've got Gemma to call me with updates. I just need some time, and it's not the same as before. I know I can go back if I need to, I'm not avoiding it this time." 

"Okay," Louis says, smoothing his hand over Harrys. "That’s okay, love." 

Harry nods slowly, but Louis can tell that it’s really not okay, not  _enough_  but he doesn’t know what else to say. He can just tell Harry doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, and he sucks in a long breath. His eyes fall away from Harrys, study the contours of his face and then he looks out over the football pitch.  

“Hey Haz,” Louis says, and Harry looks at him. “You know why  _I_ stopped playing football, but why did you? You were the captain, if you don’t remember. I hated you for that," 

"I remember just fine actually," Harry says with a laugh, seeming more at ease with the subject change. "You're going to hate me even more, but I wasn't actually a big football guy," 

Louis stares at him. "What?" 

Harry presses his lips together in a smirk. "You liked it, so I liked it. You didn’t want me to play when we stopped being friends, so I did." 

Louis gapes and hits the side of Harrys arm gently. "You absolute dick. You were fucking good at it too! Better than me," 

Harry's eyebrows pinch together. "No I wasn’t." 

Louis rolls his eyes. "You deserved that captaincy, you got it for a reason, and the team liked you." 

"Oh please,  _everyone_ loved you," Harry says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're Louis Tomlinson, everyone wanted to be your best friend." 

Louis kicks his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him. "I was a  _dick_ , don't make excuses for me," 

"You were a dick to me, you were nice to everyone else." 

"Oh well that makes me feel better." 

"Hey," Harry says, and Louis looks at him. Harry leans in and kisses him, resting their foreheads together, his hand cupping his jaw. "It doesn’t matter anymore." 

. . . 

It's dark when they get home, walking along the sand-ridden grass towards the beach house, the sky shining orangey-pink off of the shoreline, the glow of the TV screen illuminating through windows.  

"You're home!" Liam says when they open the screen door. "I was about to send out a search party." 

"Yeah, sorry we’re late," Harry says. "I wanted to show Louis around. How was work?" 

Liam goes into a spiel about his day, and Louis leaves Harry in the kitchen with him while he goes into the living room. Zayn is leaning his head back against a couch cushion and Niall is sprawled out on his lap, head tilted towards the TV, and his skin a lot pinker than usual.  

"Hey, how was the beach?" Louis asks, searching for a spot on the couch where there is none. 

Niall doesn’t look like he can move, but he manages a shrug. "Good. I think I got sunburnt. Nice surf though." 

"There are only so many times I can paint the ocean," Zayn mutters, motioning towards the snippets of paintings taped to the wall. 

Despite his possible sunstroke, Niall still manages to go on about how beautiful the paintings are, how he’s going to get one tattooed on his face, and Zayn flicks through the channels of the old TV, pretending to be disinterested, and leaving it on some boring documentary about whales.  

Louis goes out onto the back patio, the mid-autumn wind chilling his skin and the October stars twinkling above him. He hears the sliding door open and close behind him, and Harry leans on the railing next to him.  

They stay out there long after the lights click off inside, and Harry runs his fingers along Louis' back, holding him softly by the waist. 

. . . 

Louis wakes to the sound of Harry's mattress creaking, he squints his eyes open and notices the room is barely lit up in a faint tinge of yellow, and Harry is up digging through his clothes. 

Louis frowns, firstly, and then leans up on one elbow to squint at Harry across the room. "Hey, what are you doing?" 

Harry spins around. "Sorry for waking you." 

Louis smiles. "Yeah, I definitely hate you," 

Harry laughs softly. "Just going for a run." 

"Why?" 

Harry smirks, gesturing along his torso. "My body is a temple, Lou." 

Louis drops his head back against the pillow. " _God."_  

"You should come with me!” Harry whisper-shouts, jumping back onto the bed and bracketing Louis in between his legs.  

Louis stares up at him. "On your run?" 

"Yeah." Harry nods, curling his hands around Louis' waist.  

Louis gives Harry a dubious look. "You know who you're talking to right?" 

"You used to run all the time," Harry says.  

"I  _used_ to play football," Louis says. "I've got a crippled knee, Haz, running could do some serious damage." 

Harry laughs and presses a kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth. "Oh  _please,_ you and I both know that’s not how it works," 

"Since when do you  _run_ anyway?" Louis asks, turning his nose up at the word.  

Harry sits back on Louis’ lap. "I used to run all the time when I lived here, you've made me lazy." 

"I think we've had quite a physical relationship, actually." 

"Oh God," Harry shakes his head, grinning. He gets off the bed and reaches out a hand to pull Louis up. "Come on," 

Louis takes the hand but doesn’t move, contemplating pulling Harry back down with him. "I can't believe you're trying to make me exercise, what  _are_ you?" 

Harry bats his eyelashes. "Your favourite person in the whole world?" 

Louis gasps, feigning shock. “Liam will be so hurt.” 

"Lies," Harry says and cups Louis' jaw, leaning down to kiss him again and again. “Come on, please? It’ll be more fun if I’m with you.” 

“Even though I’m the best company in the world, there is no way that statement could be true.” 

“Hm,” Harry says, letting Louis go, slipping off the t-shirt he slept in and pulling on a pair of Nike shorts. When he’s dressed in his one item of clothing, he leans against the wall and sighs demurely. “Guess I’ll just have to find some other guy to run with me, one of the lifeguards maybe.” 

Even though he’s joking, the prospect bothers Louis too much and he ends up groaning frustratedly and pulling on his own pair of shorts, following a very delighted Harry out the door.  

They follow a route along the picket fenced houses and sand-ridden beach tracks, it’s apparently easy for Harry to remember from the last summer but Louis just finds himself feeling more lost than ever. He keeps up with Harry easy enough but is a fair bit more exhausted than him when they stop at the shoreline.  

“Please tell me you’ve taken me here to kill me.” Louis says in between puffs.  

Harry laughs, rolling his shoulders back, his skin shiny with sweat. “Those who run together, stay together.” 

“Lies,” Louis says. “All lies.” 

Harry kicks off his shoes and stands knee-deep in the ocean. He reaches a hand out and Louis steps forward and Harry takes Louis' hand in his. He leads him closer and out into the water, a devious look in his eyes and Louis knows exactly what it means, but by the time he can jump away he's already submerged. Harry has his hands on Louis' shoulders when he resurfaces, laughing hysterically and fuck, Louis wants to kiss him.  

“I’m  _so_  sorry,” Harry says, seeming quite the opposite. He smooths Louis’ damp fringe back a few times and looks at him with bright, wide eyes, resting his hand against Louis' cheek.  

Louis brings his own hand up to flatten over Harry's. “It isn’t romantic to drown me whenever we’re in the ocean Haz,”  

“Isn’t it? I need to rethink  _everything_ ,”  

Louis tilts his head back and chuckles, pulling Harry back out of the water by his hand.  

"We should come back here tonight.” Harry says, walking alongside him.  

"Um. It'll be freezing." 

"Not to swim, it's just really nice at night. Even if it's cold, it's nice with you," Harry says. "Or I just have incredibly low standards." 

Louis grins. "Well, although I am a catch, I do wonder sometimes," 

Harry looks at him, dumbfounded. " _What_?" 

He grabs Louis' forearm so that he stops walking, so that he can look at him properly. 

"Don't act so shocked," Louis says.

"No, but I genuinely am." Harry says, seriously. “What do you mean?” 

"You're gorgeous, Harry,” Louis says, feeling oddly confident considering he thinks it might be the first time he’s outwardly said that to him. “And your own boyfriend doesn’t want to kiss you in public and you’re just putting up with it– why are you smiling like that?" 

Harry’s mouth has been stretched into a grin, one that looks like he’s trying really hard to contain it. "You just called me your boyfriend." 

Oh.  

Louis looks back at him. He sort of did, didn’t he? Louis is a little surprised that he was the first one to say it. “Well... yeah. Is that okay?" 

"Of course it's okay, idiot." Harry smiles, tilting his head back against the sun and sighing. "I want to kiss you right now, we're definitely going to be kissing a lot tonight." 

"Are we?" 

"Yup. Because you just called me your boyfriend, which is a big deal, and also means I can call you  _my_  boyfriend – even if it’s just to you. It’s more than enough." 

“You’re too easy to please.” Louis says, feeling guilt prickle in his chest.  

“Funny, that’s never been a problem.” Harry says with a filthy smile.  

“Oh Jesus,” Louis shakes his head, smiling fondly. "Really, though. You could have an actual relationship Haz, no emotional baggage and whatnot,” 

"I  _could_ ," Harry says, grinning at Louis. “I’d rather just have you.” 

. . . 

"What the  _hell_ is that?" Louis asks, staring at the glass of what appears to be green sludge Harry is offering to him back at the house.  

“Green juice.” Harry says, looking at him like:  _what else would it be?_  

Louis frowns. “Looks like a swamp. You’re trying to get me to drink swamp water.” 

“It’ll be good for you, drink it please?” 

“Fine,” Louis huffs, as if he’s making some valiant sacrifice.  

They drink on the porch under the cool sun, still just in their shorts that dried on the run home, Louis slides a hand onto Harrys knee and presses his fingertips into his skin while everyone else rouses themselves out of sleep and Liam heads off to work.  

Louis finds a boxset of Disney movies in the cabinet beneath the TV and tells Harry they’re going to get through all of them, because it turns out there isn’t a lot to do at a beach house when it isn’t summer and you aren’t up for braving the semi-cold sun like Niall Horan.  

The day flies by in serenading Disney songs to one another and arguing over favourite characters. The others return home, Niall with a fresh sun burn and Zayn with new paintings. Liam tells them about some of the kids at work and they make burgers on the old Barbecue under the tarp out back and eat them on the porch. When everyone goes to bed, they dress in warm sweaters and Harry takes Louis’ hand, pulling him outside.  

They get back to the beach and sit on the cold sand, watching the waves, the ocean so black it’s a perfect mirror for the sky.  

"So Niall asked me something when we were cleaning up the dishes," Harry says, digging his toes into the sand.  

"Yeah?" 

"About coming out," Harry adds. 

“Oh,” Louis says. "Is he not out to his family?" 

Harry shakes his head. "And I don't think he's told Zayn that yet, he doesn't want it to be a problem."

"Wow." Louis says. 

"What?" Harry asks, seeming genuinely curious. 

Louis stares thoughtfully for a moment. "Just... out of all of us, he seems like the onewho would be the most 'out and proud' and all that." 

Harry nods. "I mean, obviously he doesn’t have a problem with his friends knowing, and he hasn't specifically told his family that he's  _not,_ it's just never come up because he's never been in a serious relationship until now. He's pretty sure they'd be okay with it, but he asked me about my first coming out story anyway, and it just got me thinking," 

"Did it?" Louis asks. "About?" 

"You." Harry says, his gaze falling on Louis. "You were the first person I came out to," 

Louis raises his eyebrows. This is new information for him. “I was?" 

Harry nods, then looks back out to the ocean. "Because I was in love with you." 

Louis stills completely. If he were drinking anything, that would have been the perfect moment for a spit-take.  

"Literally from the moment I saw you," Harry says, still staring ahead. "I didn’t know anyone at school, and I remember I was trying to read a book but there was this  _fucking loud_ boy in Bio who kept the whole class distracted, or entertained, however you want to look at it. And I looked up and I couldn’t even be mad because you were – _are_ the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my life, and I was so completely taken with you that when we finally spoke, when we bumped into each other in the hall after class, that only happened because I was thinking so hard how I was going to approach you." 

Harry smiles softly out to the ocean, and Louis doesn’t even know what to say. He's so overwhelmed, really, and Harry keeps talking. 

"I was surprised, honestly, when you kept sitting with me and talking to me. I thought, it must be because of all of these interests we have in common, there's no way you could feel the same. I did wonder if you did though, a lot. I don’t know. It was dumb. I liked being important to you, being your friend was enough, but I was always very much in love with you. It was the first time I had been in love with anyone, and probably the only time. It took me a while to figure out what it was, and I thought coming out to you would change something but um. You were still – it still meant a lot that you supported me." 

Louis stares ahead. He's at a complete loss for words, like, what does someone say in a situation like this? Thank you? I'm sorry? Harry definitely meant it as a nice thing, but Louis just feels worse than probably necessary. And more confused. Louis was never able to pinpoint what drew him to Harry so much either, it's just a Thing he supposes. It's just the way Harry exists. After that first time running into him, he couldn’t help but notice him everywhere, and then find himself sitting next to him in class and during lunch and on the bus ride home. It just happened. And now knowing that Harry felt all these things, and he never told him, and how everything went so downhill. It's... it's not a good feeling. 

"Sorry," Harry smiles sheepishly down at his knees. "I wasn't going to tell you that, that’s probably a lot. It's a lot. Oh god, I've fucked this up–" 

"Haz, no." Louis says quickly. "No, I just..." 

He doesn’t exactly know what he wants to say. Or what he's even feeling. Harry was in love with him  _so soon?_ Was Louis really that oblivious? Or. Or maybe he was so in denial of his own feelings for Harry that he just ignored it. That's probably the more likely scenario. Also there's the case of the 'was'. Harry  _was_ in love with him. If he fell out of love with him before, he could just as well do it again. If he even  _is_ in love with him again. Well, there's that train of thought that Louis will have to unpack later. 

"I'm so lucky to have you." Louis says instead, watching Harry's slightly dejected expression relax into something more comforted. Good, okay, that was good.  

"Yeah," Harry says. "Same to you." 

Louis leans up and kisses Harry's temple, then rests his head against his shoulder. 

"Did it hurt when we stopped being friends?" Louis asks quieter, he's always been certain that it was just him that felt like shit in those years. "I thought it was what you wanted," 

Harry purses his lips and looks up at the sky. “Sometimes I just try to forget that ever happened." 

It isn't until later, when they're back in bed warming up their cold bodies and Harry is fast asleep next to him, that Louis realises he dodged the question. 

. . . 

Louis decides to take Harry's advice, whether it was intended as advice or not, and he finds that it's a lot easier to forget as the week wears on.

Wednesday, Liam has the day off, so they go for a drive down to the next town over and stock up on groceries, Niall riding on the back of the trolley and definitely disrupting everyone in the building. Louis wanders alongside eating from a bag of grapes before they’ve paid for them, stealing a kiss from Harry when they’re in the Frozen's aisle and Niall and Liam are arguing over food brands or something. They play their music loud on the way home and stay up late listening to old records and watching the sky fall from the porch, while moths make noises when they hit against the lights.  

Harry drags Louis out of bed for another run the next morning, the air is cooler but Louis is honestly thankful for that when they get back and he’s out of breath. Niall teaches him how to poach and egg, sending silly snapchats to Nick and Jade, Liam searching through an old phone book (Louis doesn’t believe they still exist) to try and find some of the friends they had that still live here. Niall makes monster ice cream sundaes, drizzled in dark chocolate sauce, and that night, Louis and Harry take the van down to the beach, kissing in the backseat, hands roaming, and Louis swears he can still taste the sweetness on his tongue.  

Harry finds a skateboard in the back shed on the Friday, while he was searching for a broom to get rid of some of the sand that’s trailed through the house. It’s just them home, he doesn’t even know where the others go anymore, it doesn’t even matter.  

“Hey you like to skate, right?” Harry asks, holding up the board when he comes inside.  

Louis looks up at him from the couch. “Used to, I stopped when I hurt my leg and couldn’t do anything for weeks.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Louis smiles, standing up. “Was this yours?” 

Harry gives him a look of disbelief. “You think  _I_ know how to skate? Oh Lou,” 

“Shut up,” Louis says. “I  could teach you,” 

Harry laughs. “Uh, no. I’d probably die.” 

“Not when you have a spectacular teacher like me,” Louis says, already leading him outside.  

"This is not a good idea. No way. Louis, I'm clumsy, remember when we were in the van and I kneed you in–"  

"We do not need to relive that." Louis cuts him off, extending his hand. "Come on, I'll hold you."  

“Oh  _that_ boosts my confidence.” Harry says, taking the offered hand anyway.  

Louis just gives Harry his best smile. Once they're on the paved area outside, Harry's face sets with determination, like the life of their relationship depends on him learning how to skateboard. 

Louis guides Harry with how to properly stand on the board, and Harry follows like the wonderful student he is, but it is definitely awkward to watch.  

If he didn’t know Harry as well as he does, he'd probably wonder what planet this boy is from with coordination  _that_ bad. But Louis recognises the weird wobbling and swivelling as part of Harry's natural charm, and it's hard not to smile when Harry laughs with so much light in his eyes whenever he stumbles off of it.  

"Look at you, a natural." Louis says, while Harry is making another attempt at skating in a straight line. 

"This is terrible, and you're the worst person ever." Harry says, staring down at his feet, his hands out like he's trying to balance himself. He's smiling wide though, Louis might melt. 

Louis rolls his eyes instead, catching Harry in a kiss when he slows down enough. "Oh please, you love me."  

And – Louis doesn’t know what caused it – but Harry stumbles quite spectacularly, and the board shoots backwards, ramming straight into the bone right below Louis’ left knee.  

“ _Holy fucking shit!”_ Louis cries, a sharp pain shooting right up his leg.  

He jumps back, hopping on one leg and cradling the other. Harry is running over to him in a second.  

“Jesus, babe, are you okay?” Harry holds Louis up. “I’m so sorry!” 

“No, Haz, it’s fine,” Louis manages, smiling weakly and hopping on one leg. “That was my fault,” 

Harry doesn’t seem to be hearing him at all, examining his leg closely. "Oh my god, that’s your bad knee right? The one you hurt playing football?"  

"Harry, I'm okay, it's just a graze," Louis assures him. "And that healed ages ago."

Harry still isn't registering him, awkwardly holding Louis up by the waist while also bending down to try and get a look at Louis' knee. "Shit, we should get it looked at, Lou, I'm so sorry."  

Louis squeezes Harry's shoulder firmly. "Hey, it was my fault. And I'm fine."  

Harry gives him a dead look. "Funny, you keep saying that but you're wincing."  

“I’m  _fine._ Quit mothering me, Haz.” Louis says, rolling his eyes. 

“Can you at least prop your leg up on the couch?” Harry asks.  

“Yeah,” Louis says, hiding a limp. “Alright.” 

Harry tucks his arm under Louis’ and around his back to help him inside and towards the couch. 

“Honestly, Harry, I can  _walk_ , I’m okay.” Louis says. 

Harry's jaw sets, seeming frustrated that he knows Louis is lying. “Let me look after you.” 

He lays Louis down on the couch and rolls up his sweats to the knee to check the damage. There's just a red splotchy mark threatening the beginning of a bruise, but nothing too major. Harry hurries into the kitchen, and returns moments later with an ice pack that he places on top of Louis’ knee.  

“Looks worse than it feels,” Louis assures.  

Harry frowns. “I don’t want you to  _feel_ anything painful at all.” 

“Well that’s just not going to happen.” 

“Always so negative,” Harry says. “But I guess I don’t blame you, considering,” he gestures towards Louis’ leg. Louis rolls his eyes.

They sit there like that for a few minutes, Harry kneeling in front of Louis, next to the couch and breathing slowly. There's something unsettling about the way Harrys face and overall demeanour has changed in the time of silence that has passed, like he’s considering something unpleasant in his head.  

“Why did you say that?” Harry finally asks. 

Louis tenses, knowing he’s referring to his casual use of the  _L_ word. So it was _that_ then. Fuck. Louis’ stomach drops, he needs to recover fast. “It was just– it was a figure of speech, Haz, I was joking. It had nothing to do with what you told me the other night. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was… Making light of what you told me or anything.” 

Harry nods, but it seems off. “Right. Um – are you sure you’re okay? I feel terrible. I can get you a bandage or something, there’s got to be a first aid kit  _somewhere_.” 

Louis holds Harry's gaze. “I’m only going to say this once: It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. I shouldn’t have been standing behind you, I shouldn’t have said that, and it doesn’t even hurt.” 

“I don’t–“ 

Louis cuts him off by tilting his head forward and sealing their lips in a kiss. “Would you please shut up?” 

Harry smirks and looks like he's really contemplating that. “I don’t know, are you going to kiss me again if I don’t?”  

Louis grins and leans down further to press his lips to Harry’s throat, trailing kisses along the curve of his neck, his jaw, and back up to his mouth.  

They kiss slow, despite the longing in Louis’ chest with how much he wants to pull Harry into his arms and keep him there and keep kissing him even when the boys come home. Harrys fingers presses into his side and Louis’ stomach flutters, his breath catching in his throat. His hand slides down further, down to the waistband of Louis' jeans, sliding a finger beneath and along his skin, when Louis catches his wrist.  

“Actually, can we not?” Louis says, breathing harder. “I’m just a bit tired and–“ 

“No, it’s okay,” Harry says, pulling his hand away immediately. “I didn’t even think about where we were, sorry.” 

Louis gives him a fond look. “And I did just suffer a really extreme injury so–“ 

“Oh Jesus,” Harry says, laughing. He gets to his feet and switches on the TV, and then back on the couch, Harry gently lifts Louis’ legs and sits down, placing them on his lap. 

When the others get home, Harry recounts them on how the injury happened, despite Louis insisting that it was nothing. They’re in the middle of watching whatever daytime talk show is on and Louis is dozing in and out of sleep, but that might have something to do with the quilt Harry had pulled over them both and how he’s stroking his leg gently beneath it. It's easily the most comforting thing in the world, so Louis is nothing less than perplexed, really, because his hands won’t stop shaking, and he doesn’t know why. 

. . . 

They haven’t moved when the sun rises the next morning. Louis drifts in and out of his sleepy haze at the sound of Liam's car revving to life, and again when Niall and Zayn try to quietly leave for the beach.  

Harry is still sitting up at the end of the couch with Louis’ legs on his lap, his head is tilting a little, propped up by a cushion and his chest is rising and falling slowly, mouth slightly open to let out tiny puffs of air.  

Louis yawns once and that somehow rouses Harry out of sleep. He blinks a few times against the morning light, Louis finds it unfairly adorable.  

“You didn’t have to stay in here all night.” Louis says.  

“It’s fine,” Harry says. “I didn’t want to move you and wake you up.” 

“Sorry,” Louis says, trying to move his legs that are twisted in the blanket, the hint of an ache coming from the bruise on his knee after not moving it all night. “Do you want to go back to bed?” 

Harry shakes his head, resting his hands on Louis’ legs gently to stop him moving. “No, we can make this work.” 

Harry shifts out from under his legs and Louis scoots further towards the back of the couch. Harry lies down next to him, his elbow is sticking off the edge a little but he pulls the blanket over both of them and wraps his arm around Louis’ waist, tucking his chin onto his shoulder.  

Louis can feel something then, something inexplicable and burning tugging at the pit of his stomach. The air thickens around them, but that might just be for Louis, Harry seems fine just lying there with him. Perfectly fine, while Louis' insides are being squeezed in an ache of anticipation, overcome with feeling for him. 

“Do you ever think about the future?” Louis finally rakes up the courage to ask, anxiety bubbling beneath his skin.  

Harry’s eyes are so gentle, like he knows how Louis is feeling, and he’s trying to make it better. “Like… Our future?” he asks softly.  

“Yeah,” Louis says, trying to mask the panic. “Or whatever.” 

“I do, all the time.” Harry says easily. “And its always good.” 

“Huh.” 

Harry brushes some of Louis’ hair back with his fingers, trailing along in a soothing rhythm. “Does that worry you?”  

“No, I was just curious.” Louis says, closing his eyes and letting himself be calmed by the touch. “I think about it too.” 

“And what do you think about?” Harry asks, quiet, almost a whisper.  

Louis mills that over for a moment, but the answer seems easy. “I want this to be something that sticks.” 

He might be underplaying that a little. He wants so much. One bedroom with all of their stuff together, the equivalent to Harry's heart-eye emojis in real life, proper handholding and kissing in public, if they could get any more domestic, he'd want that too. He wants everything with Harry, and that's so frightening, and he figures that while he still feels like that, maybe it isn't the right time.  

“I want you to have what you want,” Harry says. “I want that too.” 

Louis brushes his fingers along Harry's thigh, like a silent promise of words he doesn’t know how to express. Just yet.


	12. Chapter 12

Zayn is happy and in love and Louis hates him.  

"I hate you," he tells him, when they're sitting on the patio late at night smoking where their boyfriends won't see because they're tucked away in bed. Zayn doesn’t know that Louis would rather not smoke around Harry, but Louis doesn’t think it needs to be said.  

It's not that he even really wants to smoke, it's just. It's  _comforting_. Harry says that’s a shit excuse though, and yeah, it probably is. 

Zayn just shrugs casually. "Not much I can do about that now." 

Louis groans, leaning against the railing and watching Zayn effortlessly blow smoke rings out into the central air. "I don’t hate you. I'm glad you're happy." 

"Good. I don’t hate you either." 

Louis groans internally. It is probably unfair to be annoyed at Zayn for being too easy-going but  _honestly._ "Fuck off. Let me be bitter and cynical for once in my life." 

Zayn snorts, arching an eyebrow at Louis. "For once in your–?  _That’s_  a load of shit." 

"Yeah, yeah. You know me," 

"What are you even talking about, Lou?" 

Louis sighs. "I don’t know."

His head feels oddly spacey, and he's certain he's in that weird and dangerous headspace where it seems ideal to climb to the top of a tall building with a bottle of beer in one hand, shouting  _Queen_ lyrics from the top of his lungs while his equally as irresponsible friends cheer for him from the sidelines.  

He doesn’t have irresponsible friends though, so that plan is a bust.  

It's not that he's jealous of Zayn and Niall and their easy relationship that seems to exist perfectly and without a hitch, he's simply envious of how quickly they realised each other were this big I'm With You Forever thing. Of course, it happens differently for everyone, and Louis can’t always describe what he feels for Harry, because it’s so much more than anything that he thought possible. With Harry. With anyone. He doesn’t know. 

It's just. The thing that’s keeping Louis from moving forward, that the underlying fear, it's still there. Fear of what he has with Harry slipping out of his fingertips, because in a sense, it's happened before. Louis can imagine feeling something so powerful, something that doesn’t allow for any doubt or anxiety, something that he can feel with every cell of his body.  

He'll get there, he knows it. He just has to hold onto Harry a little tighter until then. 

“You know Aiden was a dick, right?" Zayn says out of the blue. "Not every guy is like that." 

Louis sighs. "If every guy were like him then the world wouldn’t be worth living in," 

Zayn dismisses that comment and keeps a fixed stare on Louis. "You're dad leaving, Aiden, all of those other guys... it's not going to happen with everyone. If you find someone that you trust, you have to just be okay with letting your relationship be what it is, two people committed to each other. It is possible, Louis." 

Louis doesn’t know where all of this is coming from. He’s not objecting to Zayn’s sage advice and wisdom, however, because Zayn is the one who is currently in a successful relationship.  

Louis wishes Zayn’s advice stuck as easily as he gave it. “I just don’t think it's worth the risk sometimes." 

"You don’t have to be miserable." 

"I'm not, I'm happy." Louis says, semi-honestly. Being single doesn't constitute to being miserable anyway, but he doesn't think that's what Zayn is referring to. 

Zayn reaches out a hand to smooth down the back of Louis’ head, his voice is tender. “Just don’t let it get too much again.” 

"I won't." 

“Okay,” Zayn says, taking another long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it into the railing. "I'm going to go to bed before Niall notices I'm gone. Coming?" 

Louis nods. He'd rather Harry not notice his absence either. "Right behind you." 

. . . 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Liam yells across the Monopoly board at Niall. "I'm literally always the dog." 

Niall looks horrified. "I've been playing the dog for the past five minutes! And I believe he's always been  _mine._ We're not breaking tradition now." 

"We can't just assume the dog is a 'he' _,_ " Harry interjects, and goes completely unnoticed. 

"It's  _my_ playing piece!" Liam argues back at Niall, while Niall's language grows more and more vulgar. Louis understands the previous ban on Monopoly now. 

Harry drops his head against Louis' shoulder and groans. "I fucking hate Monopoly." 

"With these two, or just in general?" Louis asks. 

"Both.” Harry says. “Did we not learn from Liam's birthday?" 

"I did." Zayn says from the other side of the room where he's painting something in his Moleskin instead. 

Louis would probably prefer to be doing something else as well, except that the weather is utterly miserable, finally feeling more suitable for the time of year, he supposes. Unfortunately, the only thing this beach house offers is a large cupboard full of board games. Most of which being different versions of Monopoly.

The game doesn’t get any better from there, so Louis and Harry end up having to confiscate the dog playing piece and then, eventually, the entire game. But Niall and Liam go back to being best friends almost immediately, when lunch is involved, and an innocent card game starts up in a circle on the living room floor with blankets pulled over their shoulders. Before Louis knows it, the sun is already setting, and he's dreading the week ending too quickly and having to head back home to his responsibilities and texts he desperately needs to reply to. He's really only interested in seeing his other friends again, and even then... 

"I managed to get the contact info for a bunch of our old friends from around town," Liam says. "We're gonna have a get together sort of thing on the beach tomorrow night." 

"How'd you manage that?" Harry asks, more preoccupied with attempting to shuffle the cards in his hands. Failing dearly, what with the mound of cards spilling over the floor, but Louis finds it utterly, utterly endearing.  

Liam clears his throat. "I asked Sophia when I ran into her yesterday.” 

Niall waggles his eyebrows suggesting. "Oh really?" 

"Shut  _up,_ Ni," Liam says, flinging a card at Niall's face, which of course results in more bickering between the two and a dangerous and messy card game.  

"Who's coming?" Harry asks after a while, and Louis needs to stop forgetting that Harry also lived here, and will have friends that Louis doesn't know, and there is literally no rational reason for that to bother him.

"Uh, everyone? Whoever can make it, I guess." Liam says with a shrug.  

Harry smiles, but it seems off. "Cool." 

Louis stares at him for a fraction longer than probably necessary, but he's quickly distracted by a loud clap of thunder, and the frozen fear that washes over Niall in an instant. That leads to Zayn putting his painting on hold and getting under the blanket with Niall, making a joke about something that no one else can hear but it must have been good because Niall’s face brightens profoundly.  

The lights eventually cut out, so Liam lights the fire, and they all make the unspoken decision to sleep in the living room. 

Louis sits down on the mattresses dragged into the lounge beside Niall and Zayn, and Liam is the next one in which results in him occupying the other spot next to Louis. That’s okay. That’s completely okay.  

Harry shares a quick glance with Louis, but takes his spot on the end in an attempt to make this all seem like nothing out of the ordinary.  

“How cute is this? It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper sleepover.” Niall says, his voice muffled due to the fact that he is encompassed completely by Zayn.  

Louis laughs. “Is this the part where we have a pillow fight?”  

Harry reaches over Liam to throw a pillow at Louis. “I would literally just fight you Lou.” 

“Thanks, love.” 

They end up falling asleep to the sound of the fire crackling, all except Louis, who gets up to put the last of the wood into the fire, before climbing back onto the bed. He feels odd not being next to Harry, but it’s probably for the best considering Harry is definitely a cuddler.  

He’s about to nod off himself when he hears Harry whisper, “Lou,” 

Louis sits up a bit, leaning on his forearm and looking across Liam and at Harry who is still very much awake and propping himself up on his elbows as well, smiling at him.  

“Yeah?”  

“This is really weird,” Harry says, and Louis can hear the giggle beneath his voice.  

Louis grins. “Yeah, it is.” 

Harry squints for dramatics sake. “So far away, I can barely see you.” 

Louis snorts a laugh. “Oh shut up.” 

Harry drops his head back on his pillow, smiling. “Good night, Lou.” 

Louis looks back to the ceiling, his expression not too different. “Good night, Haz.” 

. . . 

The party should have started at seven, but it’s six o’clock when Liam is dragging all of them down to the beach.  

People have already gathered around a bonfire, and Louis instinctually finds himself sticking closer to Harry. It’s the kind of party that he genuinely believed only happened in movies; music playing from some dudes car, but apparently not an issue for the guy sitting on the sand with his guitar, strumming something while people crowd around him, drinking and laughing. Of course, it all stops when they walk over.  

Well, Niall, Harry and Liam specifically.  

“OH MY GOD, NIALL!” Someone yells, and it’s in quick succession with similar greetings aimed at Liam and Harry, who are all attacked with hugs.  

Louis smiles as he watches Harry laugh in the arms of people that are strangers to him. It's not like he's never that happy around _him_ anyway, so.

So it's fine. Louis is fine _._  

“There's enough love for everyone, calm down.” Niall says with a chuckle once the hoard of people let him go.  

“It’s been too long you bastard.” A boy with red hair says, giving Niall a playful punch to the shoulder.  

Harry is already in a giggly conversation with someone and Louis shares a look with Zayn, who has a surprisingly amused expression on his face, and he shrugs and gives Louis' shoulder a quick squeeze, as some kind of reassurance.

“Who are your friends?” someone asks. A girl, with long brown hair and a bellybutton piercing. It's got a small dolphin charm hanging from it, and Louis only notices because she’s wearing a crop top, which honestly baffles him because the weather is shifting into only being suitable for sweaters. Each to their own, he supposes.

“Oh,” Niall says, and runs back over to Zayn’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer into the curve of his body. “This is my boyfriend, Zayn, and this is Louis. They’re our neighbours back home.” 

Some of the friends cheer at Niall, like when you win a prize or something, and Louis doesn’t know whether or not to be offended on Zayn’s behalf, but Zayn is smiling, probably at the knowledge of Niall calling him  _his_  to his old friends. Louis wonders what that feels like.  

He looks at Harry.  

He’s not where he was standing before, but he’s back next to him. Louis takes in a gulp of fresh ocean air and smiles up at him, before another girl is dragging them into the group to get acquainted. More people are starting to arrive, so Louis has to get used to letting other people steal Harry's attention, whether he likes it or not.  

. . . 

Harry knows everyone.  

Louis thought there would be some people who only knew Niall and Liam but they know Harry too. Louis wouldn’t be surprised knowing that Harry made an effort to get to know the entire town inside out when he lived here. It seems exactly like the kind of thing he would do. It’s just weird, really, because for the past few months (and years) Harry has been the Important Thing in Louis’ life, even when he didn’t want him to be. And it's weird to think that they don’t share this, that this place doesn’t belong to Louis like it does to Harry, and these people don’t know Louis like they know Harry, and there is not at all any reason why Louis should let that bother him.  

The music spills over the waves in the distance and echoes through the voices around him, Harry is resting an arm on his shoulder and introducing him to everyone as "my best friend Louis," or "my neighbour Louis," and Louis feels it ache and he knows it hurts more because Harry is only doing what _he_ asked.  

Liam has spent most of the night sitting on the sand with Sophia and a few other people, and Louis has noticed Niall loudly telling stories – which, if you ask Louis, sound _highly_ embellished – while Zayn sits next to him with a small smile on his face.  

Louis wants to go check on Zayn, because his posture is slightly stiff and discomforted, but it sort of fades when Niall holds his hand or something, so Louis figures he's got it covered.  

Louis has been sitting by the fire pit next to Harry for a while, talking about nothing and hearing the best stories from some of his friends. Like the time Niall and Liam streaked down the beach, and Harry  _swears_ he wasn't there with them, but Louis doesn’t believe that by the way he keeps kicking the guy who's telling the story.  

“H, help me mix some drinks.” Niall says from behind them a while later.  

Harry glances at Louis, who shrugs. "I'll be back soon." 

Niall grabs Harrys arm, and he barely has time to smile at Louis before he’s being tugged towards the drinks table.  

Louis feels a soft smile creep across his face at the little sway to Harrys hips when he walks, in those tight jeans he's rolled up at the ankles, several rips in the knees. There's a small breeze that sends his Hawaiian shirt billowing back a little, riding up just above his waistband to reveal those soft hips that Louis loves to get his hands on. He's joking about something with Niall, raking his hair back with one hand while he laughs at something Niall said, passing bottles back and forth and easily pouring into the glasses.

"Picturesque 'int he?" Zayn asks, sitting down at Louis' side. His gaze is following Louis', though landing on Niall instead. "Of course, you're not looking at  _my_ boyfriend." 

Louis' head snaps to Zayn. "What?" 

Zayn grins. "Nothing mate. I love you and I respect your right not to tell me things you don’t want me to know." 

"There's nothing to tell you," Louis says with a forced chuckle.  

"Right." Zayn says. "So anyway, when Niall’s friend asked if you were single, it was cool of me to give 'em your number?" 

Louis outwardly frowns now. "What? Zayn, what?" 

Zayn looks pleased and Louis knows he just got played into that response. Still, Zayn sets a hand on his shoulder consolingly. "I  _didn’t._ Don’t freak out." 

"What  _did_ you say?" 

"Said you weren't into dating anyone." 

Louis exhales. "Okay–" 

"And  _he_ said: well that’s a surprise considering who you’ve been glued to the entire night."  

Louis feels his insides sink. "I–" 

"But then  _I_ said: no way, they're just really, really good friends."  

Louis takes a deep breath and arches an eyebrow at Zayn. "I get the picture. Are you drunk?" 

Zayn chokes a laugh. Yes, definitely drunk. "Oh please, I'm as drunk as, like...  _Liam."_  

Louis rolls his eyes, giving his friend a gentle pat on the back. " _Liam_ is trying to flirt with a pretty girl, so he's probably not the best example to use, buddy." 

By the time Harry comes back, Zayn has continued with his completely sober speech that didn’t even sound like real words to Louis, but somehow ended in his opinions on diamond corruption and slave labour.  

"Heavy topics?" Harry says, handing Louis a colourful drink as Niall hauls Zayn away. 

"Oh, wait, he was going to tell me fun facts about the holocaust," Louis calls after Niall and Zayn. "Damn." 

Harry laughs –  _giggles_ and that familiar warmth uncurls in Louis' stomach. He swallows and tries to convince himself that the buzz flowing through his body is from the alcohol. Harry relaxes his broad shoulders back, closing his eyes against the ocean breeze that blows over the carves in the sand and brushes against their faces softly. There are quite a lot of people, but Louis feels like he could easily let them dissolve away if he and Harry were able to stay safe in their little bubble. That would be definitely be sufficient for him.

"Harry?" 

Harry's eyes snap open at the voice, and Louis glances up to see a boy their age looking down at them.  

Harry falls silent for a second, long enough for Louis to look over at him and see him with flushed cheeks.  

Alright. 

"Sam," Harry says, disbelief prominent in his tone. He straightens his posture a little, body shifting further away from Louis'. "I didn't expect to see you here." 

Sam sits down across from them, running a hand through his (rather tall) hair. "Back to see the folks over break," he shrugs. "How are you? It's been ages, you look great." He gives Harry a not very subtle once-over and something deep in Louis' gut twists furiously.

Harry coughs awkwardly. “Yeah… Yes.” 

Louis assumes this is an ex, and he honestly wouldn’t mind so much if Harry wasn't acting so weird. Okay, he'd be a little bitter, but he'd get over it easier if everything about the way Harry is being didn’t feel so  _off._  

"I didn’t know you were going to be here, Liam didn’t say... who’s your friend?” Sam asks, addressing Louis with a smile. It's a little arrogant, if you ask him. 

He really isn't bitter. 

Harry coughs again, keeping his face welcoming but otherwise impassive. “Oh. Um. This is uh, this is Louis. Neighbour, best friend, you know,”  

Sam smiles at Louis. “Nice to meet you, I’m Sam. Kept this one out of trouble before he met you." 

“I doubt that.” It slips out before Louis even registers what he's saying, but he doesn’t regret it. Louis still prides himself in being Harry’s friend before anyone else, and generally the most important person in his life, selfishly speaking. He recovers quickly though. "Uh, it’s generally impossible to keep Harold here out of trouble.”

"Oh, that’s completely true," Sam says with a laugh. "Anyway, I better go say hi to the others, we'll chat later?" 

Harry nods wordlessly as Sam leaves to dig Niall out of being the centre of everyone's attention. 

“Do you want another drink?” Harry asks, despite having gotten Louis a drink barely five minutes ago. He’s already on his feet before Louis can respond.  

Louis gets up and follows him to the cooler by one of the cars. “Who was that?” 

“I didn’t think he’d be here, I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry? Why? Who is he?” Louis asks. "Haz, I don’t care if he's an ex. It's okay." 

Harry avoids his eyes and pretends to be really interested in the hem of his shirt. “We never dated.” 

“But you did–“ 

“It was just a casual hook-up, it was nothing. It meant nothing.” 

Okay. So it feels  _slightly_ like a punch to the gut. 

Louis can't help the cold laugh that chokes out of his throat. “Casual hook-up? I’m sensing a trend. I feel just great knowing how little it meant when that was us." 

Harry reaches out for Louis' arm. “Lou, that’s stupid, come on." 

Louis jerks his arm back. "Don’t say my feelings are stupid." 

"I'm not – that’s not what I meant." Harry presses his hand to his forehead. "Fuck, I need a little guidance here, I don’t know what you want."

"You know what I want," Louis says, quieter than he intended. "You know why this is hard for me." 

Harry crosses his arms. "Do I? You never talk about it." 

Louis looks away. The streets are dark, and Louis doesn’t want to do  _this,_ not right now. Not here. He looks back at Harry. "If this is just something that you'll eventually move on from too, then please tell me sooner rather than later. Clearly, you have experience in that area." 

"What? Because I fucked around with a guy and then left? Funny, it feels oddly similar to something you would do.” 

Louis steps back, his heart beating faster. "Fuck you." 

"What the fuck, Lou, where is this coming from?" 

"Nowhere." Louis says. "Just forget it." 

Before Harry can reply, a voice from behind interrupts them.  

“There you guys are,” Liam says, jogging towards them with a glass of frozen slushy in his hand. Completely unaware, and too drunk to notice. “Come on, you can be anti-social later.” 

Louis nods, breathing deep and turning away from Harry. “I’m going to sit with Zayn for a bit,” 

Harry steps with him. “I’ll come with you–“ 

Louis presses a hand to his shoulder. "Please, don’t." 

Louis doesn’t want to see his face fall, how much it hurts him. In fact, he doesn’t even stick around to feel bad about it. He turns around and walks away. He finds Zayn sitting next to a campfire with some people, but he isn’t really talking to anyone and Louis is incredibly perplexed. Enough to ignore Harry being pulled into another group in the corner of his eye. 

“Hey, where’s Niall?” Louis asks, sitting down.  

“Uh, with Connor or Miles? One of those guys,” Zayn nods towards the ocean and Louis sees the silhouettes of two people on surfboards. “Apparently surfing at night isn't dangerous at all and my opinion doesn’t matter.” 

“Mmh.” Louis looks at Zayn. "You okay?" 

“These people are nice yeah? I’m just like… Not feeling it for some reason.” 

“I know how you feel.” Louis says and he looks back at Harry in amongst the group of people, his back to him.  

Zayn bumps shoulders with Louis. “Can we just go home? I mean, if you'd rather stay–“ 

“No, I’ll come. I’m getting tired anyway.” Louis says, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager. 

They get up and leave the beach, as if both of them can’t get away sooner. They're walking along the first row of houses when Zayn stops. "I should probably tell Liam we've left, he always gets worried." 

"Yeah, okay." Louis breathes, though he's not too keen on being left alone, he doesn’t want to go back and see Harry, and probably do something stupid.  

He waits outside of a house, the moonlight glimmering off the windows. Louis can feel the tiny flame of regret and hurt ignite in his heart, it's so familiar. This is it, this is how it all starts. Fuck, he thought he'd be ready for it this time. 

Images fill Louis' mind before he can stop them. A cold morning a few years ago. Harry and Louis had the house to themselves because of something that had pulled his family away, he doesn’t remember what it was now, and Louis had practically begged Harry to stay with him before he went away to visit relatives for two weeks. They woke up wrapped in sheets, separated through clothing. Louis felt like it made no sense to feel so comforted in Harry's arms, but he somehow felt completely okay with it all the same. 

He shifted to get up, he felt Harry reach for him, he felt Harry lean in close, warm breath against his ear and whisper, "can you make me pancakes?" 

Louis had turned to look at him, tilting his head, their faces close. "Can you make  _me_ pancakes or would you rather I try not to burn the house down?" 

Harry bit back a smirk, pressing his forehead in between Louis' shoulder blades and giggling. "I love when you cook for me." 

"I gave you food poisoning last month, Haz." 

Harry had held Louis tighter, soft lips against the nape of his neck. "I don’t even remember that." 

"Probably because you were dying in bed for a week." 

Harry smiled, shaking his head against Louis' skin. "Nope. Not true. But I'll still make you breakfast. When I can be bothered getting up." 

Harry held two hands on Louis' shoulders and pulled him back down. Louis didn’t fight it, he didn’t want to. They smiled at each other while they rested against pillows, and Louis thought about how Harry could be so utterly lovely, sleep-rumpled with bed hair. Even though they had a completely platonic relationship, Louis remembers wanting to kiss Harry, and being so confused by it. He wanted it more than anything, but he felt relief when Harry left. Because it was something he couldn’t ever have.    

 _Fuck._ Why is he putting himself through that again? Those memories – reminding him of the peak happiness before the fall. How quickly it can happen. The way Harry spoke to him, the way he looked at him, it all hit a little too close to home. It  _hurts._ Even if Harry didn’t mean for it to. There’s this thing with being with Harry – his fluid familiarity when they’re around each other, how they can so easily exist in each others spaces, how he knows practically everything there is to know about him. The important stuff, anyway. It seems to encompass everything Louis had so tirelessly backed away from. Everything  _she_ had said he couldn’t have.  

And oh well, if there was a way to feel disposable, Louis would find it in watching Harry feel more enjoyment with other people than he does with him. It's selfish, it's so fucking selfish, and Louis really, really isn't okay. 

His chest heaves trying to fill his lungs with something, his head is spinning with the scent of the ocean and the irreplaceable space in his life that's meant for Harry. He needs him desperately. More than the air in his lungs – or lack-thereof at the current moment in time.  

When Zayn comes back, Louis is crouching down, clutching someone's fencing, sucking in sharp and shallow because it’s all he can do to catch his breath. His chest is moving rapidly, breathing frenzied, he's dragging in laboured air like there isn't enough to fill his lungs. The night is settling over them, and he doesn’t know what to do.  

"Shit, Lou. Are you alright?" Zayn is bending down next to him and gripping onto his shoulders, dipping his head down to meet his eyes. "Hey, babe. Look at me, please?" 

Louis doesn’t look at Zayn. His skin feels light and tingly, his bones cold, everything rising in the back of his throat. "Can't," he gasps out. It gives him a headache. 

"Louis, you have to breathe." Zayn tilts Louis' chin up and squeezes the side of his neck. "Come on, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe in. Alright?" 

Louis manages a nod.  

Zayn counts, one, two, three, four, five, six.  

Louis breathes with him.  

It aches, but he keeps doing it. Again and again until it doesn’t hurt.  

As much as he can manage, anyway.  

"I'm good, Zayn," Louis exhales, holding onto Zayn’s arm as he gets to his feet. Zayn still looks concerned. "I'm alright. I think I just need to lie down." 

"Fucking hell," Zayn lets out in a heavy breath. "Fucking  _hell._ " 

"I'm okay, I just want to get home." 

"Okay," Zayn nods slowly. "Yeah, lets just get home." 

Zayn holds onto Louis as they walk back to the house, watching him with cautious eyes the entire time. When they get inside, Louis is about to head off to bed but Zayn follows him in and sits on his bed.  _Louis'_ bed. The bed he hasn’t even slept in yet since they came here, because he’s always sleeping with Harry. Louis sits next to him so it doesn’t seem weird.  

"Do you want to talk about it?" Zayn asks in a gentle voice, sounding like he’s sobered up a bit during the walk back.  

"Talk about what?" Louis asks innocently.  

“Louis. You just had a panic attack,” Zayn says, his voice firm but gentle, something he masters so well.  

“No I didn’t.” 

Zayn sighs. “It’ll feel better if you get it off your chest. If this is about Harry–" 

Louis looks up sharply. "It's not." 

Zayn's expression changes, but he nods. "Okay. Just... let me know if you want to talk." 

Louis gives him something that he hopes passes as a smile. "I will. And you too, if you want to, you know, talk."  

Zayn pauses, then nods again. "Okay." 

He rubs Louis' knee, and then pushes himself off of the bed. Louis smiles softly at him when he closes the door, but it fades when the door clicks shut. Louis brings his knees forward and wraps his arms around them, closing in on himself.  

This is okay, Louis tells himself, because it's daunting new territory so it's natural for him to be scared – or to have a  _panic attack,_ like Zayn had said. Because he's been thinking a lot about Harry and him – their future _._ And it makes his grip on Harry feel even more fragile, and whenever he feels like anything is going to threaten that... it's  _terrifying._  

People leave. They just do. They always have. It seems to happen with the most important people as well, and so Louis knows that it's easier to be the one to leave, it hurts less to be detached. To walk away.  

He doesn’t want that with Harry though. 

And he really doesn’t want him to go. 

He thinks – he  _knows_ that’s a fact now, like something deep inside his head has clicked. He just wants them to be okay, this was just another bump in the road.  

He nods to himself, to convince himself or something, and he shifts to get comfortable on the bed, too exhausted to move to Harrys bed where they've sleep each night.  

He surprised at how easily he’s able to drift off without Harry’s familiar warmth there to seep into his bones. Without it there to keep him tethered, he feels like he could just as easily float away.  

. . . 

Louis doesn’t know how long he's slept before Harry is nudging his shoulder to wake him up, but it's still dark outside, so it probably hasn't been much more than an hour.  

"Mmh, what?" Louis asks, bleary-eyed and still mostly asleep. He sits up on the bed and Harry sits down next to him, his body twisted so that he’s facing Louis and he smooths a hand over his back.

Harry then leans forward and presses his lips to Louis' shoulder. "I can't go to sleep like this," he says, lips warm through his shirt. "I don’t want to fight with you." 

"I'm not mad at you." Louis promises.  

Harry looks at him. “You just  _left._ And you’re sleeping in a different bed." 

Louis shakes his head. “I was talking to Zayn, we were just sitting here and I fell asleep." 

Harry exhales slowly and shifts to brushing his hand through Louis’ hair. “What were you talking about?" 

"He thinks..." Louis sighs and shakes his head. "He thinks I had a panic attack. On the way back from the beach." 

Harrys relaxing movements still. "What? Lou–" 

"It wasn’t even that bad, Zayn exaggerates." 

That doesn’t seem to ease Harrys worries, and instead he frowns further. "Is this because of me and Sam?" 

"Not… specifically." 

A look of determination fits in Harrys eyes. "You're not the same, babe. We're not the same." 

A noise of disbelief rises out of Louis’ throat.  

“You know it’s different with you.” Harry tries again.  

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “Is it? If I wasn’t your neighbour, if we were just a one time thing then would it be different?” 

“If you weren’t my neighbour then we wouldn’t have even happened.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows, making a noise that’s close between a snort of laughter and something else, but a harshness there all the same, drowned out of emotion. “Right.” 

“What – Lou, you know what I meant.” Harry holds onto him, trying to get his attention again. “The  _reason_  any of this happened was because we live next to each other, we wouldn’t have been forced into each others space so much otherwise, and I wouldn’t have been able to learn all about you again and remember how nice it is to have you close. I like to think it was fate or something because it  _did_ happen and this wonderful thing came from it, and I’m so happy we had firey hate-sex that night because you’re the most important thing in my life.” 

Louis sighs, despite his mood, the words come out quiet. “You say that  _now,_ but just wait until the next one comes along.” 

Harry sits back now. “Wow. You could at least  _pretend_ that you don’t genuinely believe I’ll just sleep around with anyone else, especially now.” 

Louis scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck. I don’t know why I said that. It's just… I’ve always felt like I’m temporary to someone. It shouldn’t apply to you because no matter what, I’ve not been able to get rid of you, but I still feel it, like this isn't real, it's just us trying to live out some fantasy before it runs out.” 

“What do you mean, it isn't real?” 

Louis looks away from Harry. “That’s what… That’s what she said to me. Mum. When Aiden and I ended. She told me that, because he wanted to keep it secret, that none of it was actually real anyway. And so, if I thought I loved him, my feelings were irrelevant. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t a real relationship.” 

Harrys entire posture and expression softens. He flattens his hand over Louis’ and holds his gaze. “I hate to break it to you babe, but this feels real to me. Even if it's a secret. She should never have said that to you.” 

Louis manages a chuckle. “Yeah well, her and dad weren’t on great terms and what better person to give relationship advice than someone going through a shitty marriage."

“Lou. Hey, your feelings matter. And you deserve to be happy. You don’t need to be jealous of some guy who doesn’t even know my last name. I’m with  _you._ ” Harry cups the side of Louis' face, tilting it so that he's looking directly into his eyes, his gaze heavy. “Yes, we had a casual thing. Yes, I did that with other guys before, but so did you. And  _you_  are what matters now, you always have been. Don’t, for one second, ever doubt that.  _You’re_ who I’m in love with." 

Louis stills, and for the first time tonight, he forgets everything else. "You love me?” 

Harry looks at him as if Louis is the one who's being ridiculous here, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I do, of course I do. I always have. Fuck, I loved you even when I hated you, how does that work?” Harry smiles softly, shaking his head. "You're going to take some convincing, I know,"  

Louis presses his lips together wordlessly, agreeing with that statement. 

“Lou," Harry says, sitting up straighter in preparation. He looks determined. "I love you when you’re humming to yourself when you make us tea in the morning, you don’t think I hear you but I do, and you always make mine in the mug with the penguins in scarves on it because you know it's my favourite. I love you when you spend  _twenty fucking years_ styling your hair every day, when it looks perfect the second you roll out of bed anyway. I love you when you make me watch the same season of your favourite crime shows twice just so you can pick up on the smaller details. I love you when you’re the most stubborn arsehole in the world and you annoy the hell out of me. I love you so fucking much. Even if you can’t say it back to me yet." 

Louis doesn’t know how to breathe. Louis doesn’t know how to not stare at Harry. 

It takes him moments to register everything Harry’s just said, all of the  _I love_ _you’_ s that just spilled from his lips, and let it sink in. No one has ever poured his heart out to Louis like Harry just did, like Harry does every single day. There’s a part of him yearning to say it back, even just to see if he could say the words as easily as Harry did. It seems ridiculous, being so mortified of uttering three little words to someone who means everything to him, someone who makes his heart expand as infinite as the universe and who makes him feel more comfortable and at ease just by being there. He should be able to say it back, he just cant.  

“It’s okay,” Harry says, pressing his lips to Louis’ forehead. “Its okay, baby, you don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything.” 

Louis nods against Harrys chest, and he already feels lighter. Because Harry already knows. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hi.  
> i seriously apologise for the long wait! an unfortunate result of studying and writers block, but i'm back with it :) also, after hearing the devastating news about Johanna, i feel like i need to mention that this is entirely fiction and they're just characters! though it was no less weird to write (especially considering the storyline for Anne, a little too real.) i never met her but i don't have a doubt that she was both a wonderful woman and mother <3  
> alright so it's just after midnight on Christmas morning where i live and i wanted to post this before i went to sleep. happy hols everyone, enjoy x

There's a rainstorm at four in the morning, Louis knows because he hasn't been able to get an inch of sleep and the only thing worth doing is staring out the window and watching the sky change. It's just a thing that happens when he tries to deal with big life decisions, and it's definitely not the first time. 

When Louis moved to London with Zayn, the first few weeks were the hardest. Back home in Doncaster, Lottie was beginning high school and the twins were growing out of their bunk beds and it was winter, Louis' favourite time of the year. And yet, he had never felt more lonely, even when Zayn was with him.  

Zayn's dorm was tiny. Barely enough room for two people, and Louis was certain he wasn't actually allowed to stay there, somewhere in the little university accommodation pamphlet discarded under Zayn's bed there was something about zero expectations to letting sad, unemployed friends sleep in your room. Zayn said it didn't matter, and Louis didn't mind the uncomfortable nights crashing on the couch with creaking springs and torn fabric and questionable stains. He didn't mind having to retreat outside whenever Zayn used spray paint, filling the air with fumes, because sometimes that was better. Louis could find himself somewhere, with someone, and he'd help himself forget that night and everything and everyone before it. It was just how he operated. It didn't make him happy, but it didn't hurt him like the rest of it did. And that was enough, it seemed like it was all he deserved at the time anyway.  

So it's been hours of lying awake watching as the room lightens from a muted gray to gold from the first glimpse of a sunrise while the rain starts to die off. Harry is slumped against his skin, breathing softly, and Louis feels like he wouldn't be able to fall asleep even if he tried. He's just been staring at the windowsill while the world changes colour, balancing on a precarious line between having a meltdown and feeling like everything has finally aligned.  

"Haz," Louis half-whispers. "Harry, hey. You awake?" 

Harry shifts and stirs, eyes blinking gently, inhaling softly. "Am now," he murmurs. "What's the matter?" 

Louis searches his brain, unsure of a reason for waking Harry up besides just wanting to talk to him. "I'm sorry for fighting with you," is what he ends up saying. 

Harry smiles and presses a kiss to Louis' shoulder. "Every couple fights. Even Zayn and Niall, believe it or not, will hate each other at more than one point in their relationship." 

"Yeah well I think we've had far more than our fair share of stupid fights since we've known each other." 

Harry waves a dismissive hand. "Irrelevant." 

Louis chuckles and shifts his position to get more comfortable, tucking his leg further in between Harry's and pulling the blanket up over their shoulders. 

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs upwards as he watches him. "You're adorable." 

Louis stares at him. "Adorable? Please, I could  _destroy_ you." 

Harry smiles, a note of suggestion in his voice. "Oh, I know you can." 

"You're honestly terrible, I hate you." 

Harry smiles fondly and kisses Louis' forehead. "Still adorable though." 

Louis breathes heavily. God, this boy. 

Harry lets out a peaceful sigh and sleepily rests his head back down on Louis' chest, closing his eyes again. Louis reaches down and tangles his hand in Harry's hair, scratching lazily against his scalp. Harry smiles, leaning into the touch.  

It must be nice, Louis thinks, to be able to just exist happily with someone and not worry about screwing it up or someone hurting you just because they can. It must be nice not to have that fear looming over you every second. 

Louis wants to tell Harry these things. If anything, just to tell  _someone._ He doesn't say anything though, just closes his eyes again and tries with every inch of him to fall asleep.  

It doesn't happen, but no one has to know. 

. . . 

The morning arrives in the form of a text from his mother. Louis catches the words  _I wish you would just–_ before he decides it isn't worth reading. It was probably a cowardly move. Maybe Louis' a coward. 

No, he's not. None of it's his fault. 

Not a coward, and not in love either. 

Definitely not. And the fact that he's been lying awake staring at Harry's sleeping face has nothing to do with that. It's just. It's  _nice._ Times like these, it’s when Louis can see most of the old Harry in him, the one he first became friends with. The soft, careful boy with his ridiculously large hands and curls that would hang over his face, so sweet and innocent. There's this man in his place now, biceps and jawlines and tattoos, and Louis can't believe that he cares about him just the same. Possibly more. He never knew that could happen. 

He rips his gaze away however, at the sound of approaching footsteps. He gets out of bed, almost breaking his back on the way out, falling onto the wooden floor and grimacing upon impact. He leans up quickly to check if it woke Harry, but he's still sound asleep. Luckily Louis is actually dressed, but the fact that Harry is sleeping in  _his_ bed might raise a few eyebrows.  

He manages to get to the door before ZaynorNiallorLiam is able to barge in, and he opens it only just wide enough for him to be seen.  

Zayn stops in his tracks, clearly just about to reach for the doorknob. "Oh. You're awake." 

Louis nods. "Yeah. I was just getting up. You alright? Everything okay with Niall?" 

Zayn scrunches up his face and shrugs. "Eh," but he seems like he'd rather be talking about anything else in the world. "We were gonna go hang at the pools while Liam works. As in, Liam asked nicely because it's his last day of work and although I hate kids and I'm upset with my boyfriend at the moment, I'm not gonna be a shit friend to him. However, it would be considerably less shit if you and Harry came with." 

Louis raises his eyebrows. He wasn't actually sure what he and Harry had planned for today, but they're in their last few days before uni starts up again, so doing something other than sitting around the house might be a good idea. Actually, thinking about how good this has all been––irrelevant fight pushed aside with all of it's irrelevant-ness––it's made Louis feel kind of odd and unsettled. Because on the days when it's just him and Harry and all he does is stare at him like  _how is he real??_ he has to stop himself from going all starry-eyed and thinking they might burst into flames if they stay like that. 

Maybe they will. Louis doesn't know. He's never been with someone for so long before. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll just wake up Harry." Louis says, offering a reassuring smile to Zayn. 

"How are you guys?" Zayn asks in possibly the softest Louis' ever heard him speak.  

Louis shrugs. "We're fine," but Zayn looks like he's going to keep digging for more if that's the only answer he gets. "We talked last night. We're good." 

Vague is usually good for Zayn, the bastard can read people so well. He gives Louis a small smile and nods before Louis is ducking back into the room. It's been a weird night, he's bound to say something he'll regret.  

He doesn't know how he's still not in control of his face when he see's First Thing in the Morning Harry. It's like he just melts. Right there. Right in front of him. Into a heated pool of _H_ _arryHarryHarry_ and just wants to stare at him and kiss him until he can feel his guard slip away altogether. Perhaps this is what it feels like to burst into flames. Louis is only human after all.  

Harry blinks away the sleep in his eyes and runs a hand through the mess of curls on his head. He looks like a fucking dream. He meets Louis' eyes just as Louis catches himself and gathers some composure.  

"What?" Harry asks in a gravelly tone, it hits Louis so hard it's shaking the ground beneath him. 

And then Louis remembers this guy loves him. 

He  _loves_ him. 

And while that makes all the sense in the world, it somehow doesn’t at the same time. He's heard that word before and in a way that it's almost devoid of all meaning. He can feel himself contemplating letting go of all of that for Harry, thinking how nice it would be to hold his hand or rest his head on his lap while they sit under a tree with a group of friends. Okay, he's pushing it a bit, or a lot. This is getting out of control. Harry can call it whatever he wants, but if Louis doesn’t, then there's a lot less to lose.  

"Liam." Louis blurts, catching himself in a moment of weakness. "We're um, going to work with Liam today." 

Harry blinks, still looking tired, but a smile reaches his lips. "Okay," he says, getting out of bed. His shorts are low on his hips, and he walks over to Louis and wraps his arms lazily around his shoulders.  

"Hi," Louis says into Harry's neck, arms curling around his waist.  

"Hi," Harry says with a quiet giggle. "So I had the weirdest dream," he says, giving Louis one last squeeze and then pulling out of the hug, keeping his arms loosely resting around his neck. "We were home, right, but it wasn't our house, it was mums place back in Donny, and we were there together but we didn't know each other. Also, for some reason we were the same height." 

"Now that's just unrealistic." 

Harry grins. "In the dream we were at a party, and nothing made sense, but I just remember thinking  _wow, this guy, I have to have him,_ but suddenly I had to cross mountains to get to you. And like no matter how close I got, you just got further away. It was unbelievably frustrating. And everyone was a spectator to it. I was so close when I woke up. And I know you're right here but I still feel so strange." 

Louis rubs his back. "It was just a dream, babe." Which is completely true. So he doesn't know why he feels so sad. 

The place where Liam's been working sits next to the school, the community pools blocked in by blue fencing and strong with the smell of chlorine. Niall is eagerly bouncing alongside Liam as he grabs equipment out of the shed, while Zayn leans against the  _pool safety_ sign and has the whole 'I don't care if I smoke around kids' vibe going on. He's in a bad mood. Louis braces himself.  

The water sloshes around Liam when he jumps into the pool, neatly diving under and reappearing a few feet away, folding his arms on the edge and pulling himself up to greet the mothers of the children who are in his swim class. Louis watches the blushing middle aged women and the oblivious shirtless, dripping wet Liam Payne who probably has no idea what he's doing to them. He's all polite smiles and silly jokes, Louis cannot for the life of him relate this kid to the boy who got drunk off his head and serenaded Louis with  _Livin' on a Prayer_ at one of their parties.  

Louis smiles to himself and sits down on a wooden bench. His eyes fall onto Harry, who he hasn't spoken to since they left the house. He's in his yellow shorts, an open Hawaiian shirt, and his hair is pushed back by sunglasses. He looks like he could be posing for a 90's surf calendar, despite the weather. Louis' just. He's so fascinated by him. All Harry's doing is standing there smiling with a hand on his hip as he watches Liam in the pool with the kids, and Louis is completely in disbelief.  

He notices Niall walk over to Zayn and really doesn't try very hard not to eavesdrop.  

"Are you coming? Harry and I are going to use one of the other pools," Niall asks Zayn, throwing his thumb behind him. 

Zayn takes a long, obnoxious drag of his cigarette and then glances down at his own attire. In a bored tone he says, "Do I  _look_  like I'm coming?" 

Niall looks perplexed for a moment, in between slipping out of his tank top. "Alright," he says, about to walk away when he pauses. He tilts his body back to Zayn and wraps his fingers around his arm. "Er, um. I love you?" he says, but it's phrased like a question.  

Zayn sighs, relinquishing his veil of stoicism for the moment. "Love you," he murmurs back and pulls Niall in with a hand on the  back of his neck while the other stubs out his cigarette, and kisses him. Of course, as soon as Niall walks away, Zayn rolls his eyes at himself, but Louis didn't expect anything else. 

Zayn walks over to sit next to Louis and lights another cigarette. He offers one to Louis, which he takes, because he's his own person of course. Nothing to do with the phone weighing a hundred pounds in his pocket and the heightened level of anxiety he's been feeling all since Harry's big speech last night, now that everything seems to mean so much more. What's even more terrifying is that all Louis wants to do right now is be with him again. It's torturous, and he's suffocating. 

Luckily, Zayn's problems can distract him for now. 

"I've made him hate me, I think," Zayn says, dragging Louis out of his reverie as the smoke flows from his lips. 

Louis frowns. "Huh?" 

"I'm just pissed, man. But it'll pass, he knows it'll pass right?" 

Louis squeezes Zayn's shoulder. "Mate, every couple fights." 

Zayn gives him a skeptical look. "Yeah? And does your abundance in successful relationships make you an expert?" He says harshly. Louis drops his hand as quickly as Zayn's face changes. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean–" 

"It's fine," Louis says, trying to convince himself too. "I get it, I'm completely unhelpful in this area." 

Zayn sits forward. "No, I shouldn't have said that." 

Louis smiles as reassuringly as he can. "Zayn, hey, it's cool. Stuff like that doesn't hurt me." 

Zayn sighs sadly. "I'm a dick when I'm upset." 

Louis tilts his head. "So what was it that he did exactly?" 

Zayn leans his head back and exhales smoke into the cool air. "I didn't like how he was at the party." 

Louis nods, he had figured as much, though the finer details weren't all there. Not to mention he was a bit preoccupied with his own problems at the time. "Did he ignore you or something?" 

Zayn shakes his head. "No... no, it wasn't even him. Not really. He was just having so much fun with those people who are nothing like me and it hurt, cause there's no way I could relate, you know? I know it's selfish, but I don't care. We're so different, I mean, he tries to like my stuff and I could try to like his stuff but he's just... he's going to find me boring eventually and he'll notice all of my bad traits. Like how I get when I'm upset for example." Zayn sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "I've never been dumped before. I've also never been with anyone like Niall which is amazing and terrifying, because for the first time, I really want to make it work, and I can't... I can't deal with this other stuff. I don't know how." 

Louis feels like he's drunk. He's not, he's really not, but he feels like he is. Maybe because Zayn represented this thing in Louis' life that was bulletproof, and now that's thrown out of proportion and nothing feels quite right. 

He sets a hand on Zayn's back. "He's completely different to the other guys you've been with, but that's not a bad thing, yeah? They were all sort of terrible people or pretentious artists a bit like yourself. Don't overthink it." 

"I'm going to ignore you calling me pretentious," Zayn says with a smirk. "What do you think I should do?"  

Louis snorts. "Are you really asking me _?_ " 

"Of course I am. You're my best friend." 

Louis exhales heavily. He doesn't bother coming up with anything profound. He's not a fucking relationship counsellor, and Zayn wasn't wrong earlier, his experience with knowing how to deal with feelings that are terrifying and untouched isn't exactly something he'd brag about. In the end, he just turns away, watching Liam pass out inflatables, and mumbles quietly, "Don't do what I would do." 

He knows Zayn knows what it means. Don't hide from whatever it is that feels like too much. Don't ignore it. Don't let it hurt you so often that it becomes as steady as breathing, so much that coexisting with it seems normal. Zayn doesn’t have to read Louis' mind, he's seen it all firsthand. 

Zayn sighs, dropping his gaze to the ground and then looking back at Louis sympathetically. He squeezes his hand. "I'll go talk to him, but I'm not getting in that fucking pool." 

Louis nods with a small chuckle. He stubs the smoke and walks back over to the side of the pool, leaning on the railing watching as Liam attempts to teach a group of seven year olds how to do the Butterfly. Louis refuses to believe that's a real stroke. He just looks like he's flailing. 

"Hey you," Harry says, appearing at his side and knocking their shoulders together. He's now shirtless, his skin still wet from the pool, shimmering, dripping down his narrow hips. He leans on the railing next to Louis. 

"Cold?" Louis asks, his mouth suddenly completely dry. The questions is unnecessary though because the heat from Harry's body is already drifting into the space between them. 

Harry shakes his head. "Not really. Why, you wanna go back?" 

"I don't know," Louis says, shrugging, "Maybe." He doesn't move a muscle. 

Harry sighs but doesn’t say anything and he doesn't come any closer. It's kind of upsetting because there's nothing wrong and there's nothing for Louis to feel sad about, he just wants to disappear for no fucking reason. 

He lets himself get distracted. Zayn. He'll look at Zayn. He's currently crouching down next to the pool talking quietly to Niall who's sitting on the steps half in the water, their voices are hushed so he can’t eavesdrop like he usually would. He turns back to Harry like he can't help himself and Harry gives him a sympathetic smile, but they stay a couple of inches apart, inches that are full of everything Louis doesn't know how to say, things he's too afraid to even think about. Harry stares back at him, eyes moving over all of him like he doesn’t know where he wants to look most, his wet hair a messy mop on his head, it makes Louis shiver. It's probably just because he's cold. 

"Niall, I'm fucking serious–  _don't–"_  

Louis turns back to Zayn, not expecting to see him laughing and giving Niall a warning look as Niall steps out of the pool, smirking. He reaches out and grabs Zayn's wrist, and Zayn is hardly objecting, even when a dripping wet Niall is wrapping himself around the leather jacket-wearing Zayn. Louis smiles to himself and shakes his head, and when he gazes back at Harry, he's still looking at him. 

"Wanna go somewhere?" Harry asks, then nods in some direction behind him. "Come on," he says, like they have some plan. His hand hovers so close to Louis' that he can barely breathe. 

Louis quickly waves goodbye to Liam and the group of kids in the pool, Zayn and Niall are off on another planet, and Harry grabs his Hawaiian shirt and pulls it over his shoulders. They're quiet when they walk down the path, going somewhere unbeknownst to Louis, but he doesn't care. 

They make their way down one of the fence-lined walkways to the beach, sand coating the air, swirling around them in a blurry haze. It's colder the closer they get to the beach, but Louis already feels completely out of his mind this morning more than most, so he doesn't give it a second thought. 

The earth gives way when Harry's fingers find Louis', linking their hands together. They keep walking. Hand in hand. While the ocean throws mist their way and Louis blearily wonders how Harry is surviving with his shirt billowing open behind him. Even Louis is shivering – in his attire that is one hundred percent more appropriate for the approaching winter months.  

They veer off the main beach and through a small archway of trees, a worn wooden path leading the way. Harry still hasn't said anything and Louis still can't take his eyes off him. When the path opens up, his gaze miraculously gets stolen away.  

"This is the actual cove,” Harry says as they walk along where the beach is curved into a half circle around still waters.  

Louis is busy doing a panorama of their surroundings. Cerulean skies stretching out, as if the clouds had parted for just this. The ocean is a little restless in the distance, but it's sweeping over the shore in the same way it always has. It's beautiful. 

Harry lets go of him and bends down to pick up a shell in amongst a cluster full of anemones and barnacle encrusted rocks. The shell fades from yellow to pink and fans out in a lopsided triangular shape. 

"This is a Faroe sunset shell. It's one of my favourites." Harry says. 

Louis quirks a brow. "I didn't know you had a shell preference." 

"I would be all smooth and say  _there's a lot you don't know about me_  but that would be a lie." Harry says with a smile. "Niall and I used to collect them when we lived here." 

"Nerds" 

"Fuck you," Harry says, and Louis doesn't know how those two words can sound so fond coming from him. Harry washes the sand off of the shell and dries it with the corner of his shirt. He hands it out to Louis. "Here, keep it with you. If I die tragically you'll be able to throw it back out into the ocean all dramatic-like." 

Louis laughs. "Sure, I'll do that," he says, as Harry presses the shell into his hand. 

"So," Harry says, sitting down on the sand with  his back against a rock. Louis joins him. "Have you thought about when you're going to see her?" 

"No." 

"She messaged you this morning." 

"I didn't know we were on phone-snooping level." 

"Mine died, I was just using yours to–" 

Louis pats his knee. "It's okay, Haz. I'm kidding." 

Harry smiles a soft smile, then uses his hand to cover Louis'. "I think you should talk to her." 

Louis sighs. "I know." 

"Over Christmas we can–" 

Louis pulls his hand away to press against his forehead. "Do we really have to talk about this right now? Fuck, as if I don't drive myself crazy enough as it is. You're not helping, you're supposed to be– you're meant to–" 

"Hey, okay," Harry interrupts. "Okay, I didn't know how important it was to you. I was just... I don’t want you to be sad about her all the time, you deserve to be happy." 

“I am happy. I’m happy with you.” Louis rests his hand on Harry's again. "I just... I feel like screaming sometimes, when I think about how it was with us. I really want to talk about something else, please Harry." 

Harry kisses the side of his forehead. "Okay, sorry. I'm just worried about you." 

"Don't be, I'm really fine." 

Harry nods, trying to look like he's letting it go but he's still got his eyes on Louis, studying him so closely that Louis can feel him beneath his skin. 

Luckily, Harry starts talking about the approaching rest-of-semester instead, and an overly detailed overview of his classes. The faux-casual lilt to his voice gives away everything he's feeling, but Louis doesn't mind so long as they can move on from that topic and not touch it for another few weeks at least. And maybe in that time Louis will have worked on how to ignore the incessant itch creeping in the back of his throat. 

He slips the shell into his pocket and decides not to worry about it. 

It goes like that for the rest of the day, after spending too long making out in the cove and up until they get back to the house at sunset. It hits Louis, when they're standing at the gate, how much he really doesn't want to let go of Harry's hand. He tries not to think about the overpowering part of him that's yearning to throw it all out there. The small optimistic side of himself convinced that once it's been said, he can just go along with whatever the outcome will be, or wherever life decides to take him. Fix one problem and the rest will just slot into place. Right? 

There's probably something wrong with him. 

Even though their secret has been this looming cloud over him for months, he can't help but be perplexed at how no one has picked up on anything. He almost feels like he shouldn’t  _have_ to say anything because they're so glaringly obvious, at least in his eyes. They're not subtle, not really, not even now when they're just sitting in the lounge, and Harry is on the floor by his feet, picking at the fried rice that the guys picked up on their way back. Louis thinks there's too much in his look, but to look away would be impossible. How can no one notice? He sure as hell feels it deep enough, there's no way it isn't plastered all over his face. This thing that isn't love. 

Whatever it is, it hits him viscerally, knocking him backwards along with all the air in his lungs, how absolutely and suddenly sure he feels. Nevermind the way he feels out of breath and delirious at the thought of being committed to someone like that, it always seems to be competing with the blinding fear of losing Harry again. Both making Louis feel like he needs to sit down for a moment because his head might explode and his heart might jump out of his chest and he might quite literally die. There's that. 

But then there's her voice and it's somehow still so clear in his mind––" _you're being dramatic," "there are bigger problems in life,"––_ and in those regards, she was probably right. It doesn't matter, it's just a relationship. Even if it makes his soul hurt to think that. 

He's not in love. He knows what he feels for Harry is something parallel to this universe and untouched by the billions of people on this earth. He knows there's this electric warmth that shoots up his spine every time Harry even looks at him or says his name. But it's one thing to know someone like the back of your hand, to care about them so deeply you don't know what to do with yourself, and another to have the ability to deal with the repercussions that would follow. This can be a thing. He's okay with it being a thing. But he's not going to bet all of his money on it being a forever thing. 

It doesn't matter anyway. It's not like it'll hurt any less when it's over. 

He doesn’t have to deal with that, not now, not for a while. It doesn't change the reasons why he's like this in the first place, the scars buried so deeply he could just as easily forget they're there. 

He'd been so distracted by his thoughts, his barely touched food has gone cold and he's missed whatever everyone just said that led to them all getting to their feet. 

"What's everyone doing?" Louis asks Harry when Niall and Zayn disappear to their room and Liam's gone outside. 

"Liam is checking the van so that it's ready for the drive back, and the happy couple are having their own version of couples therapy because apparently their fight was  _so_ bad," Harry scoffs. "They have no idea." 

Louis smiles. "Oh, okay." 

Harry looks at him. "Why, you okay? You haven't eaten anything." 

Louis wobbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I'm just... I don’t know. Feeling weird." He offers Harry a half-smile and picks up his plate. He takes it to the sink, Harry's footsteps behind him, the weight of the universe heavy on his shoulders.  

He knows it's just a matter of time, but his brain won't stop saying  _stall._  

He reaches for the kettle. "Do you want tea or something? I can put on a pot–" 

"Lou," Harry's hand comes to his shoulder. "You've been weird all day. You're allowed to be, I know I probably freaked you out last night, but you don't have to act like it's normal. Say what you need to, get it out." 

Louis watches Harry's face. The things he wants to say are clawing at his tongue and his brain is back again with  _don't bother, tell him tomorrow, wait wait wait wait wait–_  

 _"_ Actually, I did want to talk," Louis manages in one breath. "To you. I wanted to talk to you. Obviously." 

Harry pauses, then nods slowly. He follows him into their room and they sit on the bed. Because Louis sort of has to before his legs give out. He meets Harry's eyes again and notices how suddenly pale he looks, Louis doesn't know why. Harry can't possibly be more nervous than he is right now. Louis did have his suspicions about the whole mind-reading thing but there's no way he could possibly know that he's – oh. 

 _Oh._  

"Harry, we're okay," Louis says softly, and he leans forward to look straight into Harry's eyes while he speaks. "I'm not breaking up with you or anything." 

Harry lets out a breath, his body seeming to deflate with it, a serene sigh of relief. "Oh thank god. I just– I thought– because you've been quiet all day and there was me piling all of that shit on you last night and you wouldn't look at me much this morning–" 

"Calm down, love," Louis smiles fondly. "This is just, it's weird for me to say. I kind of suck at all of this stuff." 

"No you don't." 

"Okay. I do, but okay." Louis grins and doesn't give Harry a chance to argue. "I think we should do it." 

Harry stills. "Wait. Do you mean–" 

Louis nods, and looks at the wall instead of Harry. "Yes. I want to tell them." 

Harry's still frozen, and it's for long enough that Louis has to relent and look at him. He's got raised eyebrows and a proper look of disbelief across his face. "Really?" 

Louis nods. "I'm... I'm really so lucky to have you, and I feel like I've been taking that for granted–" 

"I don't want to pressure you." 

"You aren't. I want to do this. I'm ready." Louis assures him. "I'm still scared, yeah, but that's not something that'll just go away if we stay the same. I've been hurt before, sure, but it shouldn’t have to affect you as well. I want to just get over it, so I'm really going to try to. I just. I can't picture my life without you in it, and so I think we should just go for it?" 

Harry looks like he's about to burst, his smile has stretched so far. Louis would roll his eyes, if not for the fact that he feels exactly the same. He doesn't let himself delve too deeply into the enormity of what he just said, he can't afford to get paralyzed by it again. 

Louis is then pulled into an incredibly tight hug, the kind that leaves him feeling winded. Harry pulls him down, down onto the mattress. His wrists are secured back in Harry's grip, and he starts to cover Louis' throat in kisses. 

"When do you want to do this?" Harry asks, a little breathless when he's finally detached himself from Louis' neck.  

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow night maybe." 

Harry kisses him full on the lips. It's a bit of an awkward kiss what with Harry smiling so much, but no less lovely. "Good. That's a good idea. God, you're so smart." 

Louis laughs gently. Harry's hands slide underneath Louis' waistband so soft and feather-light that Louis shivers. Goosebumps spread all over his skin and he rolls his hips forward, just as Harry’s fingers drag tantalisingly slow along his half-hard cock. 

"Tell me if you have second thoughts," Harry says, despite where his hands are. "I don’t want you to feel rushed to tell them." He stills his movements while he waits for Louis to answer, his eyes looking repulsively innocent. He's absolutely the most absurd creature Louis has ever known. Louis' heart expands ten times. 

"If you actually stop touching me right now I will fucking break up with you." Louis says, desperately close to his lips. 

Harry pouts. "Don't even joke about that." 

Louis grins shamelessly. "Sorry. And you can stop, if you wanted to. I'm serious. If you want to sleep or just hang I can go wank myself off in the shower." 

Harrys hand has slid over Louis' thigh and he gives him a fond look. "Would you really do that for me?" 

"Of course." 

Harry grins and pecks Louis on the nose. "I think we're being far too polite. At this rate, we'll end up never telling the guys anything and never having sex." 

"Both sound terrible." 

"The worst," Harry smiles and kisses him on the mouth. "I love you." 

It's the first time Harry's said it since after the party and it throws Louis off-guard. He catches himself thinking something similar in his head, catches it before it can leave his throat. In the quickest movement, he switches their positions, leaning over Harry's body, and Harry goes along without protest, staying quiet until Louis can straddle him and push him back into the mattress. His fingers creep up to cradle Harry's face.  

"I love you," Harry murmurs again, quieter this time. Louis presses a kiss into his mouth, not saying anything in response, because he refuses to answer that with anything else. 

. . . 

There's a brief moment when Louis wakes the next morning where he remembers what he decided to do and the world literally ends in two seconds flat. In his sleepy state, he sees the bedroom walls crashing down, and a million microscopes pointed directly at him. It's awful, and he almost wishes he had never said anything. 

Then he remembers why. And he feels a little less sick. 

The day speeds by faster somehow, Louis testing how much he can squeeze into a single day before he has to puck up the courage to make this real. They walk down to the shops and pick up food for the remaining last two days of their trip, running back inside to get out of the rain and Niall and Liam's squabbles in the background. In between that and pulling out more retro board games to play, Louis barely gets a second alone with Harry. Which is probably good considering it stops his nervous system from going into a crisis.  

Harry spends the remainder of his day trying to get an art lesson from Zayn, even though Zayn's entire vocabulary consists of  _just do whatever you want, art is subjective._ Louis keeps catching himself smiling for no reason, it's got nothing to do with the way Harry is so focused in his painting attempts, chewing on his bottom lip and bugging Zayn with questions until Louis' sure Zayn is just making shit up to keep Harry happy. It's endearing.  

He could just blurt it out right then, save himself the stress that the next few hours will bring. But every time he goes to open his mouth, the words get swallowed up in a big thunderstorm of  _not now not now not now_ and his throat closes in on him and the ache of wanting to get it over with just builds and builds. 

Louis eventually has to escape to the bathroom because it feels like too much. He splashes water on his face like ten times, unable to wash away this feeling. They're like magnets, him and Harry, but forever stuck just a few centimeters apart so that the pressure will keep growing in his lungs and his legs and his hands, every inch of him yearning to touch Harry and be close to him. And he's literally a wall away. Louis wonders if he can die from this feeling. Probably. 

When he returns to the lounge, it's just Harry in there, sitting on the couch next to his abandoned artwork watching _Arachnophobia_ on VHS.

"Hey, there you are," Harry says, standing up from the couch and dragging Louis in. He grips the hair at the nape of Louis' neck and presses their lips together. Louis can slowly feel a hand unclenching from around his chest, but when he leans back, it tightens again. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, glancing around the empty lounge frantically.  

"They're gone." Harry says. "Went out, Niall wanted to take photos." 

Louis breathes. "Oh," 

"You doing okay?" 

"You asks me that like, twelve times a day." Louis says. 

"Excuse me for giving a fuck," Harry murmurs, his lips moving down Louis' throat. 

Louis grins, tilting his head back so Harry can get a better go at his neck. "I'm a mess, you know," 

"A hot mess." 

Louis grins, dizzy. "No, just a mess." 

Harry chuckles, their eyes meeting again. "You're terrible. And you're wearing far too many layers." 

"Well fuck, well have to do something about that." Louis says, his hands already unzipping his hoodie. The lights from outside casting shadows across their skin once it has slipped from his shoulders. He loops his arms around Harry's neck and arches his back to press against him. 

Harry kisses him back harder, fingers pressing into Louis' hips, body pressing against Louis'. He can feel Harry smiling against his mouth, lips parted and it's all Louis can do to keep his moan only a breath. His head spins, like he can't possibly pull Harry closer no matter how hard he tries, their bodies slot together like they're part of the same person, but it's still not enough. 

He presses forward almost subconsciously, only stopping long enough to breathe. The kiss is desperate, like it usually is after hours of being starved of this. There's nothing like it, and he feels his brain melt away the more their lips crash together – no coherent thought, no external sounds, no recollection of anything that ever happened ever, nothing except Harry. 

They're kissing like the world's about to end, when the impossible happens. 

"If you knew we were out of gas then why did you –  _JesusfuckingChrist!"_  

Louis slams his hands against Harry's chest, pushing him away at the sound of Niall's voice. It's too late. He knows it's too late. Niall, Liam and Zayn are all frozen in the doorway, staring wide-eyed as if they'd just walked in on them stark naked. They might as well have. 

After a long, long,  _desperately long_ pause, Zayn is the first to break the silence as he clears his throat. "Huh. Well this is new," he says, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face. 

Louis looks at Harry, who's gazing back at him apprehensively. Louis know's how bad he must feel without having to hear him say it. He realises he has two distinct options; he can either cower in shame and cry like the pathetic kid he is, or he can take this for what it is. An opportunity. 

The laughter bursts out of him before he can even make up his mind. It surprises him as much as it appears to have surprised Harry, escaping his throat without his control and only getting worse when Harry starts to laugh too. That low, throaty one that makes Louis wish they were kissing again. 

It's Liam that interrupts them this time. 

"Excuse me, don't laugh! What–  _what the fuck?"_ He steps forward. "Explain, please." 

Louis places a hand on Harry's shoulder while he tries to stop laughing. "We were going to tell you tonight, honestly." 

Liam raises his eyebrows. "Tell us what, exactly?" 

He looks at Harry, and Harry returns the exact same look, but it's more of a questioning one. Like he still doesn’t know how much he can say. 

"Do we have to spell it out?" Louis asks, shaking his head, still smiling. 

A face-splitting grin stretches across Niall's face, then Liam’s, who hits Niall excitedly on the arm out of reflex.  

"So you guys are," Niall waves a finger between the two of them, to which Harry giggles and nods, draping an arm around Louis' shoulder. "That’s– I'm so happy for you two!" 

Liam nods, agreeing. "I mean, I knew you were close but I had no idea... this is really great." He says. "Cause you've got that whole history thing going for you as well. Fuck, this is pretty huge." 

Louis stiffens a little and notices Harry glance at him again, then Harry says, "Not really, we're not married or anything." 

Louis can feel the conversation turn into awkward territory, so he looks over at Zayn instead, noticing his surprisingly little response. "You alright, Z?" 

"I mean," Zayn shrugs. "You guys were a little obvious." 

"They were?" Liam asks.  

"Guys," Zayn looks at both Liam and Niall dubiously. "Back home they slept in each other's rooms every single night." 

"Not all the time." 

"No, literally all the time." Zayn says with a grin. "I mean, the thing that kind of tipped me off was when Louis looked like he'd seen death when Harry was away for three days." 

" _Aw,"_ Harry grins adoringly at Louis. 

"Shut up Zayn, he'll think I like him or something," Louis says coyly, elbowing Harry gently in his side. 

Niall points casually. "That was ages ago though, this can't have been going on for that long." 

Louis chokes a laugh and purses his lips, looking at the ground. 

" _Guys."_  

Harry's thumb rubs gently over Louis' shoulder blade. "We uh, we kind of hooked up a couple of days after we moved in." 

The entire room falls silent after that, even Zayn looks more surprised than usual in light of this new information. Liam is the first to snap out of it, gesturing for them to sit. "Couch. Now." 

It takes about half an hour of their less-than-eloquent recounting of their entire relationship – excluding some of the finer details of course. When they're as up to date as they can possibly be, Niall rubs his hands together thoughtfully. "So aside from the beginning when you two clearly despised each other and hate sex was  _obviously_  the only way to get those frustrations out, why didn't you tell us? You know we would have supported you no matter what." 

Harry looks at Louis. "Lou wasn't ready for a relationship, and it didn't matter to me as long as I was with him." 

"And you're okay now?" Zayn asks, the first words he's said since they sat down. 

Louis nods. "Of course I am," and like always, he forces himself to believe those words.  

Later on, once the overall surprise has died down, Louis watches as Zayn wanders into the kitchen, and he follows him in. He grabs himself a bottle out of the fridge while Zayn leans against the counter. 

"So," Zayn says. "You and Harry." 

"Yeah," Louis agrees slowly. "Me and Harry." 

"Do you love him?" Zayn asks suddenly. 

Louis huffs a laugh. "Come on man," he says it like Zayn knows. Which, yeah, he probably should. 

Zayn is clearly not in on the joke. "Come on what? Surely there's been enough time for you to figure it out." 

Louis sets his drink down. "I'm sorry, you seem mad at me." 

Zayn smiles, but it's not the kind people like to see. "Do I?" 

Louis sighs and steps in closer to him. "Zayn, this thing with Harry, it's–" 

"I get it, okay?" Zayn interrupts. "I just... we usually know these things about each other. You guys have been together for months." 

"I mean... not necessarily together." 

"But you were fucking him all this time. All those arguments and shit, that's what it was about, yeah?" 

Louis nods slowly. "To a degree, yeah. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn’t expect it to be like this, me and him. I didn't want it to get so serious because I was afraid and–" 

"Hey, I know. It's okay, I'm just trying to get my head around it. I feel bad for not noticing sooner, I blame Niall for that," Zayn says with a small chuckle, staring at his hands. "You've been so much happier over the past few months,  _that_ I noticed. Harry's great, I'm seriously so happy for you two." 

Louis relaxes into a smile and pulls Zayn against him. When they hug, it feels like a vacuum sucking out part of the anxiety he's been carrying around him for god knows how long. Everything is finally out in the open. "Thanks, Z." 

He feels Zayn smile. "You have a  _boyfriend,"_ Zayn sings into his ear like a child.   

Louis snorts a laugh and pushes him away. "So do you. Shut up." 

They exit the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of Niall throwing popcorn into Liam's mouth unsuccessfully. "Done with your emotional talks yet? I've had enough heavy conversation for one day." 

Zayn plonks himself down next to Niall. "All done." 

Louis finds Harry looking at him like he's responsible for every good thing in the world. It hits him so deep and, like the magnets that they are, he feels himself getting pulled closer to Harry until he’s sitting down next to him.  

"Alright?" Harry asks, an arm already slung around Louis' waist. 

"Yeah," Louis nods. "Yeah, I'm good."

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait (again)! :)

The rest of October comes and goes in a blur of heavy thunder and gusts of salt-ridden wind howling against their windows, a perfect metaphor for the looming exam season they’ll be faced with once they return to the real world.

Niall and Liam spent each morning at five AM crouched in front of the TV waiting for the weatherman to read out the forecast––“ _dangerous swells and maelstroms_ ”––which, to surfers, is apparently a good thing. Zayn went with them to sit in the van and paint while they were in the water, and that’s how Louis and Harry ended up staying home watching whatever daytime talk-show’s were on. Louis didn't mind the weather so much, because he got to spend it under a thick blanket with Harry, and it didn't matter where they are, and yeah, that felt really, really good.

It’s been an adjustment however, and it’s not even as if much has really changed, though it feels like a lot to Louis. He’d never tell Harry that.

Like when they were picking up food for the road with Zayn on their last day and Harry kissed him for the first time in front of any of the guys since getting caught out, it was just once and so chaste but it caught Louis off-guard and he wanted to shrink out of his skin for a brief moment. Or when they held hands when they got back home and went to visit Nick, or whenever they would get a chance to sit close together, or not having to hide whenever he wanted to be near Harry. It’s a little overwhelming, but when he sees how happy it makes Harry, it’s a little hard to think about anything else.

It’s only been a couple of weeks back officially as LouisandHarry and Louis will admit it feels strange waking up to an empty bed, because it’s becoming an extremely uncommon occurrence in his life now. He warns himself that he’s getting too close and too clingy and he doesn’t need to know Harry’s whereabouts every second. He still worries, his brain going through a flash of paranoid scenarios before he’s even opened his eyes.

He hauls himself out of bed and sidles into the kitchen. The house is empty, in it’s general state since Zayn practically moved into Niall’s room and only makes the trip over to use his studio. Louis thinks it’s probably smart to just ditch this place, since there’s hardly any point paying rent when he could just as easily crash in Harry’s room, but then that’s sort of it. He doesn’t know how to cope when something goes wrong with the person you live with, considering his only example are his parents.

He also doesn’t know when living together started to become a thing, when they only just started properly dating. Everything has been so calm and simple and _easy_ that Louis is having to distract himself with classwork, which he’s still finding himself horrendously behind on, all in some attempt to keep his mind active so that nothing else can fit in.

There’s a note perched on top of the kettle when Louis enters the kitchen, a happy drawing of a sun wearing shades in the corner of it.

_Morning sunshine! I’ll be out all day today. Don’t ask questions. I’m picking you up at 6._

_H x_

And if Louis catches himself smiling when he puts the note down, well, no one’s around to see it.

. . .

“First date, hm?” Niall asks, throwing Louis a donut out of a box he stole from work. “Sounds mysterious. Zayn and I went to the cinema for ours.”

Louis raises his brows. “That it?”

Niall clasps a hand over his heart. “Excuse me, that’s like, traditional first date material,” he says, stretching out further on the couch and smiling about something. The memory, Louis assumes. “It was this dramatic film in another language, subtitled and everything. I honestly didn’t think I’d enjoy it but Zayn swore by it so I gave it a go.”

“And?”

Niall sighs. “Cried like a _baby._ Ever need an excuse to cry, indie films are where it’s at.”

Louis nods, nibbling at the chocolate frosting. “Yeah, Zayn’s obsessed. He goes to all of those shitty film festivals for students, I don’t know why, they never have a happy ending. It’s just like abuse, homophobia, addiction… it’s depressing as hell.”

Niall sits up further. “Yeah but that’s what’s so good about them. That’s like… it’s _life_ man. It’s reflecting the crippling journey of reality and how we’re all slaves to our own neuroticism.”

Louis stares at him. “You’ve been spending way too much time with that boy.”

Niall flicks non-existent hair off his shoulder. “I’m becoming cultured, Tommo. More wise, some might say.”

Louis shakes his head. “Fucks sake.”

Niall laughs. “Anyway, I think this is great, you and Harry going on a date. God knows it’s long overdue.”

Louis shrugs, smiling softly to himself. “Yeah, I never even considered… guess I just assumed we missed that opportunity.”

“I’m still surprised you guys managed to hide it for so long, what with how fucking obvious it all is now. I was wondering… when you guys would study together, was that just hooking up or were you already in love?”

Louis only barely freezes up at those words, but Niall doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does then he doesn’t let on. “I don’t… I don’t really remember, feels like so long ago. So what are you up to today?”

Smooth transition.

Niall begins to list his hugely unexciting plans for the day as Liam makes an appearance downstairs, slipping on a sweater as he drops down on the couch between them.

“He knows where your date is,” Niall says, after a few moments of silence.

Louis turns to look at Liam. “Do you?”

Liam takes a casual sip of his coffee. “I know nothing. No idea what you’re talking about.”

Niall snorts. “Liam James Payne, you are a rubbish liar.”

Liam shrugs. “Come on, surprise dates are fun.”

“You’re probably right,” Louis says with a sigh.

“Of course I am.”

“Well he could have told me,” Niall frowns.

“If you could keep a secret, maybe he would have,” Liam teases.

“Hey!” Niall exclaims, clearly very hurt. “Name _one_ secret I haven’t kept.”

Liam lifts his brows. “Alright,” he starts to list on his fingers. “When we were twelve, you–“

“ _Okay,_ I believe you,” Niall cuts him off.

Louis hands the other controller to Liam while he slides out his phone and texts Harry: _if u aren’t out there organizing a helicopter and/or limousine to pick me up, I’m going to be severely disappointed._ His eyes drift over the ever-growing numbers next to his mother’s contact. He locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket.

. . .

Luckily for Louis, the day goes by in the blink of an eye. He somehow manages to resist the urge to pull out his phone and ask Harry for the exact coordinates to his location, who he’s with, what the weather is like where he is, and every little detail about their date. Or better yet, resist the urge to physically extract information from Liam.

When five o’clock rolls around, Louis heads off next door to get ready, though Harry’s message was vague as fuck. Does he dress casual? Formal? He needs to know if weather will be a factor. Harry _knows_ he’s going to freak out about this, frankly it’s quite rude of him not to hint a little at what he should wear.

Needing a second opinion, Louis calls Liam over to help him because another moment spent alone and there’s a good chance he’ll smash his mirror in an angsty rage.

“You look fine, Louis. I swear to God, you’re just as difficult as Harry. Though, that’s him on a normal day,” Liam says, sitting at the end of Louis’ bed. “He doesn’t care what you wear.”

Louis stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “That doesn’t make it any less important, _Liam._ ”

Liam sighs. “I know, but you shouldn’t be worrying.”

Louis frowns at his reflection in the mirror. He’s just got on a simple black t-shirt and jeans rolled at the ankles. He doesn’t feel like he’s really put much effort into this, because he doesn’t doubt Harry will rock up looking like he just strolled off a runway – like he does everyday. So that isn’t really a fair assessment.

“Here, put this on,” Liam says, handing Louis one of his sweaters that hangs a bit over his thighs. It’s the one he wore to Zayn’s artsy hipster parties a few years ago so it’s not exactly formal wear.

“This?”

“Trust me, he loves you in that,” Liam says with a certainty that leaves Louis wondering how much they’ve talked about him when he isn’t around.

“If you say so.” Louis slips on the sweater.

He takes a few long minutes styling his hair till it’s just right, balancing between something properly styled and looking like he just rolled out of bed. Okay, shoes on, one last glance in the mirror and he’s downstairs pacing while Liam flicks through channels from the couch.

Louis doesn’t know how to feel, is the thing. He’s never been this nervous about seeing Harry before, not even when he wasn’t sure what to call their relationship and just wanted to stay away from him. He’s got this restless warmth spiralling in his chest, something electric and giddy and scary. It’s strangely exhilarating, just like back then.

“Relax, Louis. You’re going to have a lovely time, it’s nothing to stress about,” Liam says calmly.

Louis bites his lip in frustration. He stops pacing and sits on the armrest instead. “But… but what if it goes horribly and ends up not being what he expected? What if _I_ end up not being what he expected?”

“I really think he’d know by now, Lou.”

Louis sighs. Liam isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t help him breathe any easier. “This just feels like a big deal. It has to go perfectly.”

Liam sits forward and pats Louis’ knee. “You know he already thinks you’re everything, right? And come on, this is obviously important to you, considering where you head was at a few months ago. Don’t let it freak you out.”

Louis lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. This is just kind of the first, er, first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Wait, really?”

Louis chuckles. “I don’t count the others as dates considering all we did was fuck, or I sat there being emotionally distant. It’s weird for me, being with someone who actually likes me for more than just… the other stuff. I don’t know what to do or how to act, you know?”

Liam smiles. “That’s dating for you, Tommo.”

Louis lets himself believe that that’s all he’s feeling. First date nerves. Surely that’s still a thing he can feel even after being with Harry for so long. That’s when he sees headlights flash across the windows, his face falls completely.

“Breathe, man,” Liam says, leaning in closer to squeeze Louis’ shoulder. “It’s Harry, he makes you happy, not nervous.”

Louis nods, though he suddenly feels like he’s only been with Harry for a couple of days. Enough anxiety that anyone else would assume they’ve only known each other for a week. Liam is right. It’s only Harry. He needs to calm the fuck down.

There’s a knock at the door – because Harry actually _knocks,_ as if he hasn’t been living here for the past two weeks. It makes Louis smile involuntarily and he forgets his nerves in the time it takes him to walk to the door and turn the knob, his emotions pushing and pulling him to keep going or run away, like on the other side of the door is a twenty foot tall wave instead.

What he gets instead sweeps all the air from his lungs. Harry is standing there in his black button-down that shifts over the curves of his chest in the wind, tight jeans and silver boots, looking so unbelievable that Louis actually gapes. Harry is giving him the same once-over, his face beaming fondly and biting the corner of his lip in a pleased grin. His eyes are lit up and glittering against the backdrop of the night sky. It’s like he represents everything that’s chipping away steadily at the shell Louis’ built around himself, and underneath, he’s blushing.

Harry is the first one to move, leaning his arm on the doorframe, and his other hand is spinning a rose. He holds it out to Louis with a half-smirk.

“Hey handsome,” Harry says, biting the corner of his lip. Louis might die.

He takes the rose and after a long, wordless, appreciative stare, Harry’s eyes flicker over to Liam who is off to the side watching them like a proud parent.

“Hey Li,” Harry says brightly, reaching in the doorway to link their fingers. “I’ll bring him back in one piece!”

Harry pulls him out the door and towards the van, so eagerly that Louis feels himself smiling. Once they’re close, Harry spins him around and pins him to the passenger door in the slowest motion, dipping his head down to Louis closer, _closer_ until he’s pressing their lips together, kissing him so hard and sudden that Louis has to take a moment to gather his senses before he kisses back.

“You’re stunning,” Harry whispers, the wind blowing his hair slightly, dark sky painting shadows across his skin.

“Is this the entire date?” Louis asks, running his fingers along the cold line of Harry’s jaw. “Because if so, it’s the best I’ve ever been on.”

Harry grins, his lips brushing against Louis’ as he does. Then he steps back, leaving nothing but a phantom warmth against Louis’ skin, and Louis steps out of the way while he opens the door for him. “The night is still young, my love.”

. . .

Louis manages to keep quiet for half an hour into the long and winding drive, even as they drive in a direction he doesn’t recognize. Harry pulls up on the side of the road and Louis gazes around the dark, empty street they’ve stopped on.

“I’m questioning your intentions right now,” Louis says, blinking at Harry.

Harry smiles, unclicking his seatbelt and hopping into the back to get something. “We’re nearly there, just got to uh, make sure it’s actually a surprise.”

Louis has no idea what that means until Harry is back in his seat and leaning over to Louis, sliding a blindfold over his eyes.

“Kinky.”

Harry runs a hand down Louis’ cheek before shifting back into his own seat. “Bit of a throwback isn’t it?”

Louis smiles at the memory, hearing the van start up again. “Depends. Are we reliving the rest of that night as well?”

“We could. If that’s what you wanted.”

“You know, if you keep giving me what I want, I’m going to take advantage of you.”

“Used to it,” Harry says, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice without having to see it.

All he hears after that is the sound of Harry’s music and the low hum of the engine. It doesn’t feel like they drive for very long, and eventually the engine cuts out and Harry is taking Louis’ hand again and leading him through the back of the van where they sit down on a soft surface. Harry slips off the blindfold but Louis still can’t see anything aside form the faint glow of Harry’s face.

“Haz, if you wanted to fuck me in the back of the van, all you had to do was ask. No need to drive out to some undisclosed location,” Louis says, grinning. He angles his body towards Harry, a curious look on his face.

Harry smirks but doesn’t say anything. He opens the back doors of the van and Louis finally gets a glimpse of their location. They’re in an old parking lot facing a darkened silhouette of a building, only lit up by gorgeous hanging lights draped from the building to the streetlights that aren’t working anymore. Harry digs a remote out of his pocket and presses the button on it. A projector screen coming from somewhere Louis can’t see shoots across to the building.

It’s playing _Grease._

And Louis just.

He just stares in disbelief for a few seconds, and then at Harry, who just shrugs, biting his lip in a smile. Louis now notices the array of cushions and blankets beneath them, one of which Harry has pulled around both of their shoulders while Louis just continues to stare at him with a baffled expression because he doesn’t know what words even are at this point.

“Holy shit,” Harry says, gaping at him. “Louis Tomlinson is speechless. I’ve done it, I’ve broken the universe.”

“You’re amazing, “ Louis blurts.

Harry’s smile warms. He leans forward slowly, so slowly, and touches their foreheads together before their lips meet in a kiss, and Louis just melts into it. “I just love you,” Harry says. “This is less than what you deserve.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t deserve _you_ ,” he whispers, trying to keep together what little part of himself he has left that can still pretend this isn’t the nicest thing someone’s ever done for him.

Louis thinks he might see Harry’s eyes glisten against the light, and he thinks about how this must feel for him – if he’s just as scared. He doesn’t ask though, just tugs him closer and buries his head into the crook of his neck.

He feels Harry’s hand slip around his waist and stay there like it fits, and then he actually starts to pay attention to the movie. His favourite movie. That he saw with Harry the first time they ever saw a movie together at one of those silly drive-ins that schools put on to raise money, and Harry actually managed to recreate it. Except this time it’s just them here – wherever _here_ is. They could be on a different planet and Louis doesn’t think he would care. The only thing that would make it better is if Louis could freeze this moment as it is. He really, desperately, obsessively wishes that were possible.

When the last chords of “You’re the One That I Want” start to play, Louis can safely say Harry knows how to do a very exceptional first date, though the lack of comparison might help, also there’s the fact that Harry could have taken Louis to a dumpster or a meat factor and he would have thought exactly the same thing.

The credits begin to roll when Louis says, “Not that I’m bashing your wonderful date, but did this really demand your entire day?”

Harry laughs. “No, I hung out with Nick for a bit and got some studying done. I just didn’t want to be around you because I’d definitely spill everything.”

Louis smiles, tossing aside an empty pack of vegan cheesecake (tasty, much to Louis’ surprise) and leaning closer to press his lips to Harry’s shoulder. “Well, I’m very impressed Harold. Are successful first dates a trait of yours?”

“Haven’t been on many, babe?”

“Not even with your Spanish lover?”

Harry laughs again. “Do you like hearing about my other boyfriends or something?”

“No, it drives me crazy actually. But I mean, there must be _some_ competition there. Picture this scenario: Spanish guy–“

“Dante,”

“–unimportant Spanish guy makes a surprise visit–“

“That’d be very concerning considering he doesn’t have any of my contact information.”

“– _nonetheless,_ he’s standing in your doorway because _oh he just couldn't get you out of his head_ , and then suddenly old sparks are flying and you realise you’re still in love with him.”

Harry nods, as if giving this serious thought. “Right, there’s always the chance of that happening, considering I’m still extremely hung up on that guy.” Harry smirks and shoves Louis’ shoulder. “You’re a fucking moron, you know.”

“If you’re trying to get in my pants, it’s working.”

“Yeah?” Harry frees his hand from Louis’ and locks him in between his arms instead, leaning over him in a way that causes Louis to lay back on the cushions. He strokes his fingers down the curve of Louis’ jaw, eyes washing over him like he’s trying to pick up all the colours in his eyes. Louis lets his hands draw lines down Harry’s waist, along the shirt that’s too thin, the changing lights from the movie flashing over them.

Louis can't for the life of him figure out why it all suddenly hurts. He chokes a sob that he hopes Harry doesn’t hear, keeping his hands bunched in Harry’s shirt and he closes his eyes, feels Harry lean down and press their foreheads together. He’s breathing slowly, just wanting to stay like this, just wanting Harry closer, like he doesn’t know why there’s some invisible force between them. He trusts every word Harry says as solidly as his heart is beating in his chest, and yet inside, Louis still feels heavy.

When he feels Harry pull back, Louis opens his eyes and they’re already wet with tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong babe?” Harry asks, immediately concerned.

Louis shakes his head, blinking a couple of times. He swallows audibly, his chest thudding loudly. “Nothing, tonight was perfect.”

“Talk to me,” Harry says. He sits back on Louis’ lap and Louis moves with him, sitting up as well so they stay close.

Louis wipes a hand across his eyes and sighs. He isn’t sad, so fucking far from it, so it doesn’t make sense for there to be tears at all, or for the way his heart feels heavy and strangely sore in his chest. “I think I’m just overwhelmed, like, I want to hold my breath and stop time or something, so we can stay like this.”

Harry’s face relaxes. Louis can see every change in his expression by how close they are, he can smell his shampoo and the fading scent of his cologne. He closes the space between them and kisses Louis slowly, as soft and gentle as his hands that are featherlight on his body.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Harry says quietly. “I can’t promise you that every day will be perfect or that I’ll be perfect, but you have to know that there will be more times like this. Better, even.”

And oh, Harry is so wonderful. Louis can’t work out how he’s saying those words to him, none of it makes sense, that this ethereal, radiant boy is looking so desperate for him to get this. Harry’s just. He’s that feeling when the sun rises, when the clouds clear at night, and the fucking smell of flowers. And his eyes are on Louis. Like they always seem to be these days.

“How can you know?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry purses his lips thoughtfully. “I have incredible foresight. Can basically see the future.”

“Can you?” Louis asks, grinning even though his eyes still feel heavy. Harry wipes the remaining tears with the back of his hand and leans in closer. “What’s it like?”

Harry bites his lip, his eyes only leaving Louis’ to drop down to his lips. “It’s alright. There’s you and me, we’re like really old and gray and need help getting out of our chairs.”

“You know I’m going to be the worst when I’m old,” Louis says, half-joking at his own expense even though his voice breaks halfway through. “Think that over first.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me, it’s not going to work. I know it’s happened before,” Harry says tentatively with smoldering eyes, taking his hands to Louis’ neck, whispering, “This time it’ll be different.”

Louis watches him and tries to quash the nerves in his stomach. Harry swallows, and slowly leans down, pressing their foreheads together again until the feeling intensifies. Louis tightens his hands around Harry and wonders why everything feels so heavy.

“Hey.”

Louis opens his eyes.

“I love you,” Harry says, barely a whisper against his lips.

Louis’ breathing shakes as he attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. “Are you gonna leave?”

Harry strokes Louis’ hair back, shaking his head. “I won’t.”

This time when they kiss it’s as gentle as Harry’s hands are on his neck, but Louis can feel each touch piercing the promises into his heart, chiseling them in and setting them with cement. One of Louis’ hands slides up under Harry’s shirt, but there’s nothing forceful or insistent about it, nothing that feels like this is leading up to something else. They’re just kissing. Like Harry will keep kissing him like this until he feels okay again, making each slide and drag of their lips count. And Louis lets himself have it. The blanket falls off their shoulders, and it’s cold, but he doesn’t bother to pick it back up again.

. . .

When they get home, Louis heads straight up to Harry’s room to put away his sweater. He sits on the bed to kick off his shoes, but his alone time only lasts about thirty seconds before there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Louis calls out, and Zayn steps into the room, joining him on the bed.

“So… how’d it go?”

Louis considers lying or playing it cool, or even making a joke – perhaps about how Zayn, Niall and Liam were crammed up against the window waiting for them when they got home. He doesn’t know what they expected to see or what they even wanted to see. He can’t seem to find it in him to joke about it though, it’s like his crude humour has been put on hold for the evening.

“Oh no, you’ve got that look,” Zayn says before Louis has a chance to speak.

“What look?”

“We’ve dubbed it The Harry Look. It’s like having a really nice dream or eating something delicious. You should see a doctor about it bro, it happens a lot.”

Louis rolls his eyes, hiding his blush. “That is not a thing.”

“Keep telling yourself that babe,” Zayn bumps their shoulders together. “So it was good?”

Louis sighs contentedly. “Perfect. The bar is officially set too high.”

“Good. That’s good. I approve of him.”

Louis hitches a laugh. “It’s good to know you approve of the guy you’ve been friends with this entire semester.”

“Anything for you, Lou. Now come downstairs, we’re watching a movie which is apparently extremely important and worth interrupting my homework.”

Louis scoffs. “Artists don’t have homework.”

“I will hit you, you dick,” Zayn warns, swinging his arm over Louis’ shoulders.

They wander back downstairs, stumbling in on Liam and Niall apparently giving Harry a similar ‘talk’. He meets Harry’s eyes and it all feels a bit like a scene out of a bad movie, but he’s not complaining.

Zayn slides in next to Niall, and Louis sits himself down in front of Harry’s knees. He feels Harry shift a little behind him to make him more comfortable, and then he pulls a blanket over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Louis says, genuinely meaning each word. He thinks, if only there were a way to get Harry to know how much he means it without having to say it over and over again, _thank you, thank you, thank you_ because Louis doesn’t know how to say anything else. But then he feels Harry stroke his hair softly, and the words that start to form in Louis’ head feel a bit more groundbreaking. He feels his eyes slipping closed pretty early on into the movie.

The words are there, and then they aren’t, and in the morning he knows he won’t remember anyway.

Not that it matters.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm the most inconsistent person ever so i wrote this whole final chunk at the same time and just split it all up into chapters. i'm going away for the weekend (AKA no wifi) so i'll be posting three now and hopefully i'll get the last chapters up in a few hours before i leave :)

Liam is in a studying frenzy. He has been for days since they neglected to even glance at a textbook while they were on break, but Louis is heavily considering combusting if he hears Liam utter another word about molecules and cells. Seriously.

“Mock quiz time!” Liam shouts, startling Louis as he walks next to Harry through uni. He’s holding up a textbook full of exam prep, stuffed to the brim with papers and post-its. “True or false? Adrenal gland disorders are often caused by genetic mutations and infection.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Liam,” Louis says, not even pretending to give that any thought.

Liam huffs. “Answer the question. Come on, exams start next week and we haven’t studied at all.”

“It’s true. That, and the answer,” Harry says. Louis does his absolute best to sneer at him for that.

“Gold star for you, Harry,” Liam says, beaming at him, then to Louis, “ _you_ have a lot to work on.”

Louis lets out an amused sound at Liam’s overreaction. “Harry’s motivated by the looming fear of med school, I know better, thank you very much. Besides, we study.”

“I don’t think me watching hospital shows while you fall asleep to online lectures really counts as studying, babe,” Harry says.

“That’s a technicality.”

“We need to have some group study sessions,” Liam tells them.

“Lou’ll never go for it,” Harry says, as if Louis has suddenly faded out of existence.

“I’ll bribe him with pizza.”

“I’ll bribe him with sex.”

Louis looks between them wildly. “Wow, I’m deeply offended that you both think I’m so easily bought off.”

Harry laughs and swings his arm over Louis’ shoulder. “I can tell you’re so hurt.”

Louis fixes him with a glare, for arguments sake. “I am, completely, you just ruined Christmas.”

“It’s still November!”

“ _That’s_ how offended I am.”

The whole atmosphere changes when Harry leans in close to his ear, so close Louis can feel all kinds of warmth, and he whispers, “guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

Louis stops breathing.

Harry’s gaze falls past him, at Liam who’s head is still buried in his book. “You go on, Li. We’ll be there in a second.”

Liam doesn’t really register them, murmuring something that sounds like _yeah, yeah, whatever,_ he turns a corner towards their lecture theatre, and Harry is pulling Louis in the opposite direction.

Before he even knows what’s happening, he’s being pressed up against the wall of the handicapped bathroom, Harry’s tongue down his throat as soon as the door is locked behind them. In the tangible solidness that holds them together, Louis wishes the ease and confidence he has when he kisses Harry could transfer to his constantly racing heart.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought though, because Harry chooses that moment to moan loudly into his mouth, and _fuck._ Louis has to scramble to something to hold onto. He’s already painfully hard, and just about collapses when Harry starts yanking down his jeans and slipping his fingers under his waistband.

Harrys grin stretches wider, he presses up against Louis but pulls his face back so their mouths are just barely brushing. Instead of kissing him again, Harry dips his head down and sucks on Louis’ neck, his lips hot and wet against him. Louis can already feel that pre-bruise sensation; sharp and stinging and heart-racing and perfect. He ends up gripping the sink behind him just in case his legs give out.

It’s only when he groans a little louder than intended that his surroundings start to blur back into focus. “We’re missing our lecture, Haz. Important stuff.”

He thinks so anyway, trying to recall if Liam had said anything of importance but at this point he can’t seem to process anything outside of this surprisingly tidy bathroom.

Harry grins, his face close. “This is important, for like, science reasons.”

Louis laughs loud and unexpected. Harry meets his eyes again, licking his lips.

And then he drops to his knees.

He actually _immediately_ drops to his _knees_. Confidently as well, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Louis, and well, there’s no point in pretending he doesn’t. He makes quick work of tugging Louis’ pants down, and Louis lets out a surprised noise but melts into it straight away.

Harry takes his time sucking marks along Louis’ thighs while Louis leans back heavily against the sink. “Fuck Haz,” he manages, only slightly aware of how wrecked his voice is already.

Harry smirks, and in one smooth motion, he takes him all the way down, and then Louis is a little lost to the world. Harry’s mouth is soft as always but the sudden white-hot sensation sends a shock all the way through Louis’ body, and a moan escapes him involuntarily. He arches his torso forward, just as Harry begins to bob his head up and down, taking Louis deep in his throat and yet gazing up at him in a way that is far too innocent for the current task at hand.

He’s not going to last, Louis thinks, feeling himself being wrenched tighter and tighter, on the verge of snapping any second. Louis has to close his eyes just to make it last a little longer, but the image of his cock in Harry’s mouth is still vivid in his mind, and it’s enough. He twines his fingers through Harry’s hair, not for any reason, just to have somewhere to hold, something to do with his hands.

Slowly, Harry swallows further down, red lips stretched wide around his cock, until he’s nudging the back of Harry’s throat and his nose is touching Louis’ lower stomach. Fuck, _fuck–_ Louis watches Harry slip one of his hands down, unbuttoning his own jeans and sliding it into his pants.

Louis doesn’t have a good enough view to watch him jerk himself off, but he’s able to see his arm muscles flinching and it’s– well, it’s the most obscene thing Louis’ ever seen. And he’s not even really _seeing_ anything, but he’s certain he’s about to die.

Harry picks up a rhythm, long slow pulls, his tongue dragging wet stripes along Louis’ cock. Louis watches in a dazed awe as he fills the inside of Harry’s cheeks when it slides past them over and over. He feels Harry’s other hand slide up to his hips, holding him steady, and thank God for that, honestly.

Harry pulls off suddenly, breathing heavily and leaning his forehead on Louis’ lap. Louis groans in protest and tugs at Harry’s hair.

“I think you should call your mum,” Harry says roughly.

Louis dips his head back and laughs breathy and hysterical. “Wow, way to kill the mood.”

Harry looks up at Louis sheepishly, swollen red lips and watery eyes. _Obscene._ “I didn’t want to forget to say it.”

“Babe,” Louis grabs a handful of Harry’s hair, his entire body still trembling. “I will. Just – really not the time okay? Seriously, I’d rather not think about that right now, and I don’t even want to know why you were.”

Harry licks his lips, giggling under his breath. His hand is back to working frantically in his own pants, yet he still manages to say, “Because I’m always thinking about what’s best for you?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t wait another five minutes?”

He leans down to grab Harry’s idiot face in both of his hand and kiss him, sliding his lips over Harry’s. He tastes salty and warm and he kisses Louis back eagerly, grinning and panting into his mouth.

“Why? You seem pretty good down here,” Harry says, and then a sharp whine escapes his throat, his arm still pumping away. “Fuck Lou–– you’re so beautiful, I’m gonna––“

One sharp tug of Harry’s hair and his mouth is back on him again, hitting his throat. Louis feels his knees shake as Harry’s fingers dig deeper into him. Harry moans around Louis’ cock and everything goes blurry after that, he curses loudly as he comes down Harry’s throat. He listens to Harry splutter and swallow, and when he pulls off, his mouth stays slack and hanging open.

Louis’ fingers loosen in Harry’s hair and eventually smooth over his scalp. They’re still for a few moments, catching their breath. He can’t believe they’re missing class to pass blowjobs in the bathroom, it’s exhilarating despite his less-than-satisfying memories of getting sucked off in bathrooms. Though, they didn’t feel anything close to the way things are with Harry – he doesn’t feel like he’s just convenient, he feels actually wanted.

Harry gets back to his feet while they both do up their jeans. He slowly slips his hands over Louis’ waist and buries his face into his neck, letting out a content sigh. “I love you.”

Louis swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and a soft laugh escapes his lips instead. He kisses Harry again and again, barely holding himself together. When they finally detach from each other and Louis feels stable enough to walk without collapsing, he fixes himself up in the mirror and grabs them some tissues to clean them up with.

“How do I look?” he asks Harry with his hands held out.

Harry grins, pressing his lips together. “Destroyed.”

“Oh brilliant.”

Harry slings an arm over Louis’ shoulder. “It’s good, I want people to know.”

Louis rolls his eyes, hip bumping Harry as he goes to unlock the door. They only get a few glances from passing students but Louis doesn’t think they notice or care, and he isn’t too concerned if they do either.

Liam, on the other hand, gives them a knowing look as they sit down next to him in the lecture theatre. “Do I even want to know where you guys have been?”

Harry hums happily and pulls Louis closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. From somewhere behind them, someone whistles while someone else shouts, “get it Harry!” Louis just grins and slides his fingers in Harry’s.

“Did we miss much?” he asks Liam quietly.

“Not really. There’s going to be an open day thing on Friday for high school students. And I think we need to pick up our exam schedules.” Liam tells them, so once the lecture is over, Louis scoots through the exiting students to the front desk, knowing the other two won’t be too far behind. Professor Reynolds is evening out a stack of paper when Louis gets his attention.

“Hey lads,” Reynolds says. “All prepped for exam season?”

Louis nods proudly and overly enthusiastic. “Of course. As if I’d dedicate my time to anything else. You know, all I do in my spare time is just sit there with a pile of books and study non-stop–“

“Styles, is he yours? Take him far away from me please,” Reynolds says with a smile, shaking his head.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis from behind, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder and swaying him softly in his arms. “Impossible sorry, he’s convinced he’s his own person for whatever reason.”

Louis elbows Harry gently in the ribs. “Anyway, can we get one of the exam schedules?”

Reynolds digs through a few stacks of paper and hands it to them. “Oh hey, are you guys busy tomorrow?”

“Are you asking us out?” Louis says, immediately followed by Harry squeezing him a little tighter, Louis can feel him smiling against his neck. “Sorry, too far.”

Reynolds chuckles. “Fortunately not. Actually, I wanted to see if you guys were interested in sitting in the little information stalls for the sciences and med departments at the open day? We only have a few students who volunteered for it at the moment. You’d just be handing out brochures, answering questions and trying not to scare high school students, up for it?”

Liam shrugs. “Sure, we’ll do it.”

Louis quirks a brow. “Didn’t know we were making collective decisions now.”

“Course we are,” Liam says. “A family that lives together, hands out flyers to bratty teenagers together.”

Louis smiles and shrugs because it’s true. “Guess we’re on it then.”

Liam lifts his hand to wave. “See you tomorrow–“

“Oh!” Reynolds claps his hands together once. “I almost forgot, Harry, do you mind if we talk in private for a bit?”

Louis turns his head to look at Harry who is still pressed up behind him. “ _Ooh._ Sounds important.”

Harry arches an eyebrow, letting go of Louis. “Yeah, sure.”

Liam pats Louis’ shoulder. “Come on mate, we’ll go get some lunch,” he turns to Harry, “I’ll text you where we are.”

Harry nods, wobbling back and forth on the heels of his feet. Louis’ fingers tighten around Harry’s waist quickly. “Hey,” he says, leaning in and kissing Harry on the cheek. “See you soon.”

He and Liam end up in one of the campus burger joints sharing a paper thing of chips between them. Louis’ got his feet up on the seat in front of him, listening to Liam complain about one of his co-workers at the gym, Katie, more specifically her high ponytail.

“So you fancy her,” Louis says, stating it like a fact.

“What? No way. She’s all, you know, with her hair always swinging around whenever she turns her head,” Liam stutters. “It’s annoying.”

Louis smirks. “Mhm.”

“Shut up.” Liam shoves his shoulder. Louis grins, his eyes flitting over to the door behind him as a group of people who are definitely not Harry pile in. He returns his attention to Liam. “Besides, I’ve sort of got a thing with… you know. Sophia.”

“Sophia? From the cove?”

“Yeah, I – I don’t know, kind of? It was just really nice to see her again, I mean. We’ve always got along and she’s stunning, right?”

“Yeah, sure, she’s beautiful,” Louis says, and after Liam gives him a look. “What? I’m comfortable with my sexuality.”

Liam grins. “I know, I know. But anyway, what I’m saying is, there’s no way I’d even consider starting anything with a co-worker. I even got asked out by one of our members the other day­–“

“ _Liam,_ you stud.”

“It’s just weird, like, feeling like I’m waiting for someone who I’m not sure I should be waiting for. I don’t even completely know if it’s mutual, you know?”

“Do whatever you think is right. If you wanted to, I don’t know, go on a little date with one of the many lovely ladies wanting some of the Payno then that wouldn’t be a problem. You wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”

Liam smiles, then looks down at the sauce he’s swirling his chip in. “I think… I think I’ll wait.”

“Well that’s good, then?”

“It is, yeah?”

“… is it?” Louis checks, tilting his head a smidge.

Liam exhales, nodding once. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Yeah. It is.”

Louis breathes a laugh. “Is our resident romancer Liam Payne a bit of a heartbreaker?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Shove off.”

Louis sticks out his tongue, immediately jumping at the sudden presence at their table. Harry smiles down at him. He looks considerably more distracted than he did twenty minutes ago, which Louis does his best not to overthink. He moves his legs from the chair and Harry sits down.

“Hey,” Louis says, eyes curious.

Harry shrugs off his jacket; still somehow looking sunkissed and golden in the cold, grey overcast. “Hey. What are we talking about?”

Louis’ face falls slightly as Liam starts to repeat the entire conversation they just had.

“What was that about?” Louis asks, possibly interrupting Liam mid-sentence.

Harry looks at him. “Hm?”

Louis only frowns further, considering Harry is absolutely horrendous at concealing whenever he has something on his mind. It’s a trait that comes with being such an emotional person, Louis knows how difficult it is for Harry sometimes when he feels _everything_ and it all gets too much. Louis wishes he didn’t know what that felt like, he wishes he didn’t try so hard to block it out.

“Reynolds, what did he talk to you about?” Louis prompts gently.

“Oh, he just asked if I could babysit again tonight,” Harry says casually, brushing it off like nothing’s weird. Maybe nothing is weird. Maybe Louis’ just paranoid because things have never been so good for this long before. “Do you want to come with me? I promise you won’t have to sneak out the window this time.”

Liam raises his brows. “Wait, what? Did you actually do that?”

Louis grins and pats Liam on the shoulder. “The less you know, the better, Payno.”

. . .

“Thanks so much for doing this, boys,” Reynolds says, shrugging on a blazer.

“No problem,” Harry says. “We’ll have heaps of fun, won’t we Andy?”

Andy hums something unintelligible, his mouth half-full of fairy bread. Reynolds told them earlier when they arrived that he’s going out to a staff party with some of the other younger professors who like to get all of their celebrating out of the way before they’re forced into the obligatory office parties closer to Christmas, so that’s resulted in having to apparently spoil his kid with nice food and new toys so he doesn’t cry about getting left with babysitters again. Luckily, Reynolds doesn’t seem to mind that Louis’ tagged along this time, and that’s good because Louis is sort of refusing to leave Harry alone until he tells him what’s up.

“Fair warning, he’s been having some trouble getting to sleep so you might be doing the whole _tucking in_ thing a couple times. He should be fine after that.”

“No problem, he loves when Harry reads to him.” Louis clears his throat. “Not that I would know. Because I’ve never been here before.”

Reynolds squints, amused. “There’s food in the fridge and cash on the counter if you want to order pizza,” he says, grabbing his keys off the counter. He bends down to kiss Andy on the forehead. “Be good,” and to Louis and Harry, with the hint of a smirk, “no funny business on my bed. I’ll know.”

Louis huffs a laugh. “Not on your bed, got it.”

Reynolds shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he heads out the door. Andy waves out the window as his dad pulls out of the driveway, and then runs over to his toys on the living room floor.

Louis looks back over at Harry, whose head is down in his phone. He’s quick to slip it into his pocket, and smiles at Louis like it’s fine.

 _He’s not telling me things,_ Louis thinks immediately, as he follows Harry into the living room. He watches him curiously as he sits down to join Andy in his elaborate _LEGO_ meets _Barbie_ meets _Harry Potter_ set up he’s got on the carpet. He’s in full “I’m going to play with this kid and not talk about anything else” mode, so Louis pushes it all to the back of his head for now. Because it could very well be nothing.

“Louis, you have to be the Harry Potter, hurry _up,_ ” Andy orders from the floor, frown on his face.

Louis shakes off the bad feeling and fixes his expression. “Shouldn’t Harry be Harry?” he asks, sitting on the ground across from them.

“But he’s the dragon.”

“Yeah, Lou. Keep up,” Harry says with a smirk. Louis flips him off when Andy isn’t looking.

By the time the pizza has arrived, they’ve just about tired Andy out and the flashy _LEGO_ set up has extended into _Lord of the Rings_ territory as well. It’s all quite impressive, if Louis does say so himself, not to mention it’s put Harry in a better mood. Still distracted, but better.

After dinner, Andy announces that he’s bored of their game and entertains himself with the TV. Louis sits up on the couch beside Harry, knees bent and toes tucked under Harry’s legs. He’s got an expensive feeling fluffy blanket draped over him, and isn’t really watching the screen, instead, he’s watching Harry.

His face is bathed in the television light, eyes fixed to it, but it’s like he’s not really paying attention. Every so often, Louis will see his eyes drop down, as if he were just hit with a sad thought, and then back up. It’s just… it’s a little crushing. Because he was fine earlier. And if he wasn’t, then he’d tell Louis. It’s what they _do_. The prospect of Harry feeling sad about something and not telling him is so petrifying, it’s too much.

Louis hopes it’s just end-of-semester panic, and it’ll pass, but he feels too anxious to even ask.

He doesn’t even notice his eyes growing heavier, until he’s opening them again and Harry is walking out of Andy’s room and the TV is muted.

“Oh, shit, did I fall asleep?” Louis asks, wiping a hand across his eyes. “I didn’t mean to leave you with that.” He nods towards Andy’s bedroom.

“It’s cool, not difficult to read him a book,” Harry says, a lopsided smile sitting on his face. He sits back in his spot. Louis watches him.

Louis bites his lip. “Do you wanna go over some notes or something?”

Harry looks at him, perplexed. “Huh?”

“I thought… maybe you might be stressed with exams. They’re next week,” Louis tries awkwardly, and as soon as the words leave his mouth it occurs to him that that’s not the thing that’s been bothering Harry.

“Oh,” Harry says. “No, I’m fine with exams.”

Louis nods. “Okay.”

They sit there in silence while Harry toys with the fabric of Louis’ jeans, neither of them bothering to unmute the TV and end this soul-sucking, never-ending stretch of time.

“Actually,” Harry says, sucking in a breath that seems too fast and too panicked. “There um, there was something I–– oh. Hey, little dude.”

Louis’ head shoots up to where Andy is standing in the hallway, looking sad and tired, and remembers what Reynolds said about his sleep habits. Harry hurries up to coerce him back into bed, while Louis heaves out a frustrated breath. Fucking hell, he was so close.

When Harry comes back the second time, he sits back down on the couch, this time curled up against Louis and buried under the blanket with him. He unmutes the TV and says an anecdote about the show they’re watching, so Louis settles with the previous almost-conversation being a thing of the past, and he’ll have to try again later on tonight.

Now though, he tucks his arm around Harry’s waist and kisses along the back of his neck, and as the night wears on, after Reynolds gets back and they go home, it isn’t brought up again, but Louis supposes he’ll have to be okay with that, for the time being.

. . .

There are few times when Louis wishes he was wrong, but when it comes to this _thing_ with Harry, he really, really wishes he were wrong. Thing is, the next day while they’re in the living room, Harry loses it over fucking _Greys Anatomy._ For absolutely no reason either as far as Louis is concerned.

One minute, they’re only half paying attention as Louis makes an offhand comment about the possibility of actually working in a hospital when they’re older, and the next, Harry is complaining about the fact that “we don’t know what’s actually going to happen in the future,” and “ _Greys_ isn’t even that realistic anyway.” Louis just stares back at him as he huffs in irrational irritation and slumps in his seat.

They fall silent after that. And Louis ignores it.

Later on, _ignoring it_ becomes significantly more difficult, largely as a result of Harry’s rapidly fading enthusiasm while they eat dinner. Louis sits quietly at the dining table and is so, so aware of how every little comment causes Harry to look like he’s been slapped in the face, and he only barely acknowledges anyone to the point where he’s hardly in the conversation at all. Louis experiences something like emotional whiplash. He should have _known–_

He did though, is the thing. His mounting anxiety is really just sparking feelings that have always been there.

Louis tunes back into reality when Harry exhales sharply next to him and gets to his feet. He’s completely missed whatever Niall was saying, but Niall falters mid-sentence despite it being a relatively small outburst. And Louis, well, he’s finding himself extremely focused on not knowing what to do with his hands.

Harry sighs to himself in a way that it looks like it hurts him to do so. “Um, I…” he breathes the words out slowly, like he’s unsure exactly what he meant to say. “I’m going to bed.” He looks down at the table, then up at Niall. “Thanks for dinner.”

With that, he steps out from in front of his seat and drops his plate in the sink, and he disappears upstairs, leaving the room in an eerie silence that Louis wishes he could dissolve into.

He clearly has no idea what to do in these situations. He likes to think he knows how to deal with an upset Harry but that was when he knew the reason for why he was like that. Louis’ never had to deal with this blind. He doesn’t know what he’s done, or what’s happened, but it’s the first time he’s seen Harry like this in many, many weeks.

He’s getting looks from the other boys around the table, like they’re confused whether or not to be pretending that didn’t happen.

“I’ll go––um…” Louis gets to his feet and makes an awkward exit from the room.

He finds Harry lying on his back on the bed, above the covers, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey pouty,” Louis says, leaning on the doorframe. He’s going for a lighter approach, though his chest and his head and everything else is screaming. “What’s up?”

Harry answers with a shrug.

Louis sighs and twists his fingers together anxiously, then pats his palms on his thighs and takes a step into the room. “Is it Anne? Did you hear something from Gemma?” he asks hesitantly.

Harry shakes his head.

“You gonna make me guess, huh?” Louis asks with a weary smile, but it drops when he gets nothing but static. “Does it have to do with what Niall said?” But again, there’s no reaction.

Another step. “Was it something I did?”

At that, Harry exhales slowly and sits up. He reaches his hand out and when Louis takes it, he pulls him down onto the bed with him.

“No, it wasn’t anything you did.” He pulls Louis closer and kisses his forehead, brushing his thumb back and forth over Louis’ skin. “I’m just tired, sorry. Just tired.”

Harry dips his head to kiss Louis’ cheek, nudging himself forward to lie against Louis’ chest. “It wasn’t you,” he says again. Louis doesn’t feel completely convinced, but he decides not to push it. He’s not sure if that’s because he’s too afraid what he’ll find out if he does.

He slides one hand up between their bodies and curls it around the back of Harry’s neck, keeping him there. They don’t say much else after that, except Harry holds him a little closer and a little tighter, not moving, like the world would collapse in on them if they did.

They’ll talk about it tomorrow, or Harry’s actually telling the truth and everything will be fine. Louis thinks, even if everything in his life is one big fucking mess, even if it’s just a bunch of calamitous little stories that collide miserably with one another just trying to make sense, at least he’ll still have Harry.


	16. Chapter 16

Zayn wakes up to a medley of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ and Rihanna's _Rude Boy_ coming from Niall's sound system. An average day, then.  

He squints one eye open. The room is still dark and he's hoping it's because he slept through an entire day, though by the way he feels he's fairly certain that's not the case. He feels over the bedside table, knocking into Niall's broken lamp and a few loose guitar picks till he finds his phone. _03:30 AM._   

He groans, rolling over and scrubbing a hand over his face. "Ni, seriously,"  

Niall is sitting up against the headboard with his laptop open, the glow of the screen causing Zayn momentary blindness. "Oh, sorry," Niall says, turning down the volume of his music. "Did I wake you up?"  

Zayn stares at him blankly. "You know me, ever the early riser."  

"Sorry, I woke up a few hours ago and couldn't get back to sleep."  

Zayn sits up a little. "Everything alright?"  

Niall nods slowly, tapping away at his keyboard. "Peachy."  

"Hey," Zayn rests a hand on Niall's knee. "You okay?"  

"Yeah. Chill out."  

"'kay then," Zayn says, unconvinced but far too tired to deal with it  as of yet. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom. Now that I'm, you know, _awake_ and everything."  

"Have fun with that."  

Zayn slips out from under the covers and pads down the hall to the main bathroom. There's a sliver of light peaking out from where the door is slightly ajar. He stops just outside, about to turn around when he hears something that sounds a lot like a sniffle.   

Zayn freezes in his tracks.   

“I don’t––I don’t know how to tell him,” Harry’s voice, unmistakably. Zayn carefully steps closer to the gap in the door. “I feel like I don’t even know what I want anymore Gems, he just––he makes it so easy to forget about everything else.”

Wait –  _wait._ Oh God, this is really not a conversation Zayn should be overhearing. But he doesn’t feel like he can leave.

“I know, I know it’s such an amazing opportunity, and so close to you guys,” Harry sounds like he’s trying really hard to keep his voice steady. “But he’s not _just_ anything, is he? And if I… if I tell him, I’m scared of what he’ll say, what if he wants to break up?”

 _Fuck,_ Zayn needs to go. He really, really needs to go.

“No, _no_ of course I don’t want that. God, I love him, _so much,_ and I don’t want him to think that I don’t – yeah. Yeah I know.” Harry sighs, Zayn holds his breath. “This is just, it’s so opposite to everything I’ve been telling him, reassuring him, y’know? He’s going to hate me.”

Fuck.

“I will, I’ll talk to him. I promise. I just need the right time. He’s got exams all week and I don’t want him to worry – yeah, I know.” There’s a pause, and Zayn leans in closer against the wall to make sure he’s still on the phone and doesn’t get caught like this. Then Harry huffs a worn out laugh. “Yeah, I will. I should get back to bed, thanks for putting up with me. Love you Gems. Talk to you later.”

Zayn snaps back into gear, he pulls away from the wall, carefully and quietly hurrying back into Niall's room. He gently closes the door behind and lets out a shuddery breath as he does.   

What the actual _fuck._   

He wishes he could say it explains a lot but he's still so confused. The only thing floating around in his head is that maybe Harry wants to move back home with his mother. But the timing seems a little weird, and why wouldn't he say anything to Louis? It doesn’t make sense, but he's officially boycotting his friendship with Harry until he knows more about this.   

"Babe," Niall's voice cuts through his thoughts. Zayn finally remembers that he's there. "You look a little dead."  

Zayn manages to breathe a quiet laugh, and he walks back to the bed. "I'm fine. Just... thinking about all the finals I have to do."  

Niall smiles down at his laptop. "You could work now if you wanted, I don't mind."  

Zayn scrunches up his face as he flops back down on the mattress. "Nah, you've completely fucked up my sleep schedule. I used to do all my painting at night, and then you came along with your fucking stupid parties and ruined my whole system." He smirks, leaning on his elbows and tilting his head at Niall coyly. Anything to distract himself from the _oh God oh God oh God––_   

Niall closes his laptop slowly and sets it on the floor next to him. "So, speaking of, I have a question."  

Zayn's feigned happiness slides out of him and is replaced by worry at the serious lilt to Niall's voice. This is too much for one night. "Okay. Go on."  

"There's this indie band that I've been doing some work for as their sound manager-guitar tech sort of dude for a few weeks, they've got quite the European following, like, enough that they can play some small gigs there and open for other bands. They don't have much of a crew, especially not anyone that knows a lot about the equipment, so... the thing is, they offered me a job going on tour with them. Next year."  

Zayn blinks at Niall a couple of times, his insides have gone ice cold. He breathes a for a few moments, his field of vision wavering just beneath where he feels Niall’s cautious eyes watching him. "I thought you had a question."  

Niall tries on a tentative smile, but his nerves are seeping through his skin. "Well, the thing is––and I totally get if this is asking way too much––but... would you maybe want to come with me?"   

That's... not what Zayn expected.  

Zayn clears the lump in his throat. "You... oh."  

Niall looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. "What? You didn't think I'd leave without you? I'll only go if you're with me. And I don't want you to feel pressured. I know your art is important to you and I won't make you drop out if you're not–"  

"Yeah, for sure, I'll go with you," Zayn interrupts him, his chest deflating in relief.   

Niall narrows his gaze. “You said that like it was an incredibly easy decision,” he says, brows drawn together as he examines Zayn's face and any likelihood that he’s not in his right mind.  

Zayn chuckles. "It _is_ an incredibly easy decision."  

"What about maybe mentioning it to your parents first?"  

That causes Zayn to snort, grinning amusedly at Niall. "Oh I love you."  

Niall looks affronted, hitting Zayn's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Don't patronize me, it's a valid thing to say!"  

"Oh come _on_ , you know me. I barely attend classes babe, my parents are pretty lax with me doing whatever. They're hellbent on me living how I want _as long as I'm happy,"_ Zayn says with a shrug. "And if I go with you, I can make use of that travel art kit you got me."  

Niall’s expression relaxes incrementally. "Okay fine. But you should still take some time to think about it," he insists.   

"Think about what?” Zayn curls a hand around Niall’s bicep, where the sleeves of his slightly-too-big Bon Jovi shirt are slouched low. “You do know I've never taken uni seriously right?"  

Niall sighs as he smiles. "Don't say that, we're sort of meant to be selling it tomorrow."  

"I'm a pretty good actor."  

Niall grins, then looks at him earnestly. "Zayn, are you sure? You might feel different in the morning."  

Zayn is almost exploding with fond for this boy. If he were to get dramatic, he’d say he’s barely containing it. "Niall, you beautiful idiot, I have like, _three_ goals in life and they're all tragically dependent on you being there so that's something we're both just going to have to deal with."  

Niall bites his lip, doing that ridiculous cuter-than-a-thousand-puppies smirk that Zayn adores far, far too much. "And what are they? Do tell."  

Zayn makes a show of listing on his fingers. "I want to travel the world with you, make art during the aforementioned travels, and make out with you in at least ten different countries," Zayn grins and reaches across to squeeze Niall's hand. "Would you really have stayed if I asked?"  

"Of course," Niall says without hesitation. "Besides, it's not like I can expect you to wait for me. That'd be like asking you to walk around with a paper bag covering your face."  

Zayn shakes his head, pouting. "I would, if you ever asked me to. I'd wait. You know that, right?"  

"I do now."  

"Is this what you were talking about at dinner?"  

Niall nods. "I didn’t know when to bring it up. The band asked me at lunch today when I helped out with one of their sets, I said I'd have to ask my _partner,"_ he chuckles, blushing. "Figured I'd sound more professional that way. Anyway, I was going to talk to everyone about it but... Harry, um–"  

"Yeah," Zayn sighs, partly wishing he hadn't even overheard anything at all. He thinks ignorance really would have been bliss in this situation. "I'm sure he's fine, I'm sure everything is... just fine."  

"Yeah," Niall looks over at Zayn for a few long seconds. A small smile creeps its way onto Niall’s face, before he leans over Zayn, pressing a hand against Zayn's shoulder so he'll lie back down. His legs slot against Zayn's sides, warm eyes fixed on Zayn's as he tilts his head at him. "Are you really okay?"  

Zayn gazes up at him. "Yeah. I'm just thinking about Louis––about how he'll take the news. Also, you woke me up at three in the morning, I'm allowed to be crabby. It's like, rule number one to knowing me _at all_ is that you don't get to wake me up or I'll probably hate you."  

Niall's lips quirk upwards, leaning in closer. "Not me though, you love me."  

Zayn grins, trying to play it cool and not seem like feeling Niall so close is making him shiver. "Sorry babe, there aren't any exceptions."  

Niall's eyes light up like he's just been offered a challenge. He lowers himself even further, just hovering over Zayn's mouth. He can feel the warmth of his breath in every inch of space that separates them, agonizingly close.  

"Fair enough," Niall says, their noses just brushing but lips not quite touching. Then he draws back with a smug grin on his face, biting his bottom lip in the slowest movement.  

Zayn rolls his eyes, gripping the back of Niall's neck and pulling him in. Their lips crash together in a hungry kiss, like they're both wide-awake, semi-incoherently tugging each other closer until Niall arches his back and kisses Zayn hard into the mattress.   

"Still hate me?" Niall asks against his mouth. He presses his lips to Zayn's again and again, softer, like he could pull away any time he wanted.  

"You're all right, I guess," Zayn hums, breathing heavily and pressing their lips together in another lingering kiss. He cards his fingers through Niall's hair, the warm tangle of their bodies finds Niall's hands on his waist and his tongue in his mouth. Zayn wonders how Niall could even question what he wants, why he would ever want anything else when he has this.  

Niall grins against his mouth and whispers, "good," and then Zayn is putting his hands on Niall's waist, pressing hard into his skin and flipping them over without breaking the kiss. Niall makes a small noise of surprise and then contentment, squirming involuntarily as Zayn moves onto Niall's neck, sucking hard enough on his skin that he digs his fingernails into Zayn's back.  

Zayn manages to break apart for long enough to say, "How dare you," and then Niall finds his lips again, "You can't win me over like this." Then a smirk fights its way onto Zayn's lips that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.  

Niall raises his eyebrows, and Zayn expects more making out as is clearly the best way to respond to anything between them (not that he minds _at all),_ but then Niall's smirk grows more devious, and he's pushing himself down, down, down the mattress beneath Zayn. After that, the events of that whole morning seem to wash away in something like a dream.  

_. . ._

It's the beginning of Open Day, and Niall has just finished laying out a stack of pamphlets in the music booth next to Zayn's art stall. It's him, and one other guy who he hasn't seen in the entirety of his degree. He also looks like he's in his mid-thirties. Zayn doesn't question it, he doesn't really care.  

He leans over the wooden beam that separates the booths and into where Niall is balancing on the back legs of a plastic chair, and Ed is arguing to Greg over the sound system next to him.  

"Hey," Zayn says. "This is shit, let's take off."  

Niall fixes him with a leveled look, then shakes his head. "We're spreading enlightenment to todays youth, Zayn."  

"But I _hate_ todays youth," Zayn whines, pouting. "I'll just leave without you."  

"You wouldn't."  

"Come on _,_ we'll do something fun."  

Niall smirks, resting his feet up on the bench in front of him. "Your idea of fun is sleeping all day."  

"I wouldn't say just that," Zayn says with a suggestive smirk.  

Niall's lips curl at the ends. "Nah, I'm good where I am."  

Zayn groans and leans back in his chair, though it is the responsible option to stay put and do what he was coerced into doing by his art professor, he's still going to be moody about it. They're all surrounded by banners of people with wide smiles holding up slips of paper with a _this could be YOU_ look on their faces. Zayn probably looks the complete opposite in comparison, though at least that means no high school students will come up and talk to him or the thirty-something year old guy who could have easily just wandered in off the street.   

"Hey, what's your name anyway?" Zayn asks him.   

The guy looks up from reading a book with the world’s smallest font and says, "Gordon."  

Zayn nods. "Cool. M' Zayn."  

"Cool," Gordon responds, and then drops his eyes back down to his book, indicating that their conversation is effectively over. Zayn hums happily, he likes people like that.  

"Do _you_ wanna go somewhere?" Zayn asks him after a moment, jokingly of course, though he is bored out of his mind.  

"Zayn!" Niall exclaims, clearly overhearing him, which isn't a surprise as Zayn wasn't trying to be subtle.  

Gordon smiles, eyes not leaving his book. "I'd rather not get in the middle of any... domestic disputes."  

Zayn laughs and then tilts his head at Niall, who is frowning adorably. " Oh come _on_ babe." He turns back to Gordon. "Sorry, G. He owns this ass."  

Gordon, who could not be less interested if he tried, responds with, "I don't know how I'll go on." Zayn's ego is a little damaged, he'll be honest.   

Luckily it's impossible for Niall to frown for so long, and Zayn catches him grinning when he looks away.  

A couple of hours pass as the quad is essentially flooded with high school students. Zayn does feel for them, he's sure there was a time when he was young and fucking annoying like that too. He slouches back in his chair and tries to make an effort not to look too terrifying, it proves to be somewhat successful when a few students actually stop to talk to him and Gordon throughout the day.  

Currently, students in a uniform sporting the crest of a private school down the road are getting a philosophical speech from Gordon about the importance of postmodernism, though the poor sods don't even look like they could tell a Klimt from a Pollock.   

Gordon doesn't seem like he'll be stopping to, you know, _breathe_ anytime soon, so Zayn wears a sympathetic look and holds out some pamphlets for them, cutting Gordon off with a sarcastic, "Enroll in the arts, it's fun."  

It goes like that into the next hour, until Zayn doesn't think he can stomach the enthusiasm. He glances over at Niall who is otherwise occupied, and then heads off down the opposite where Louis and the others are set up.   

"Hey," Zayn says, leaning on the side of the Science booth. Louis smiles, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Zayn's initial instinct is to tell Louis everything he overheard last night, that none of it could possibly be his fault and that if he needs someone to keep Harry away from him, Zayn’ll do it. He doesn't do that though, because he doesn't know the whole story and risks making things worse. Instead, he innocently asks, "How's Harry doing?"  

"Hm? Oh, he’s fine." Louis rubs the back of his neck. "Why do you ask?"  

"Oh just... he seemed upset last night."  

Louis brushes it off. "Yeah, he said it was okay. I'd... I'd explain it to you if I knew how."  

"You're alright though?" Zayn asks, looking Louis right in the eyes to make sure.  

"Yes."  

"Then I won't ask."  

"Thanks," Louis says with a genuine smile. "Humanities boring you?"  

"Let's _not_ go there,” Zayn says, shaking his head. 

Louis' eyes light up suddenly, his lips tilting into a beaming smile as he looks past Zayn. He pieces it together when he see's Harry walking over with Jade, all happiness and sunshine. Zayn can't help it, he's already glaring. No one seems to notice.  

"I am a model citizen, the uni should be paying me to get students enrolled," Harry says cheerfully when he reaches them. He leans on the booth in front of Louis.  

"Do I even want to know?" Louis asks, smirking at Harry, but expression on his face reads more than what Louis probably means for it to.  

Jade pats Harry's shoulder. "Let's just say a lot of high school girls are _really_ interested in becoming doctors. The sudden interest when this one flutters his eyelashes is quite astounding."  

Louis arches a brow. "Oh is that so?"  

Harry raises his hands defensively. "Hey, a growth in female doctors is a good thing!"  

Jade rolls her eyes. "Yeah, if they actually want to, not when it's just because you're hot."  

"I'm both offended and flattered."  

"Guess you can't help being so naturally charming," Louis says, grinning fondly as he leans over the edge of the booth and pulls Harry in for a kiss. Jade pretends to throw up while Zayn actually feels sick.   

It's just. He's never, not once, seen Louis happier in a relationship in the entire duration of their friendship. He’s also never exactly seen Louis in an actual relationship so that might have some effect on how he feels about this whole situation as well. He knows how Louis feels about being with someone, and how, for a long time, Zayn was the only person Louis ever let close enough because he knew he'd never lose him. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions and ruin the best thing Louis' had in a long time, as well as drop the news that he and Niall are leaving, he _knows_ Louis isn't going to handle it.   

Zayn pauses his glaring session to text Niall: _hey, can we hold off announcing the news until I've talked to Lou?? I just want to make sure he's ok with it first._   

Luckily, Niall's response is exactly what Zayn was after: _yea babe no prob, take all the time u need I told u we don't have to decide right away xxx_   

Zayn smiles fondly down at his phone and sends back a string of heart emoji's, then he finds himself tuning out the rest of them as he tries to internalize a way to deal with this Harry situation. He walks over to a tree near their booth and sits beneath it, loathing the fact that they're forced to be outside during the hottest almost-winter day of the year.  

He's pulling out blades of grass and mulling over ways to hide a body when someone sits down next to him.  

"Hey," Harry says, stretching out his legs. "I thought your thing was by Niall's."  

"Yeah, just wanted to see Louis," Zayn says, fighting the urge to scowl. He tells himself he won't say anything, he'll give Harry the time he needs to make the right decision. It's really not Zayn's place to call him out, but it also kind of _is_ being that he cares for Louis more than he cares about himself and most of his family. _Fuck,_ why does everything have to be so difficult? No one can just exist happily together anymore––  

"Is everything alright?" Harry asks, rudely interrupting Zayn's thought process. "You seem a little... I don't know, weird. All day actually, I was meaning to ask you about it earlier,"  

Zayn thinks he's referring to their interaction earlier this morning in which Harry asked what flavour tea he wanted and Zayn responded with "yes" and then ran upstairs. But he could be mistaken. 

"No, everything's fine," Zayn murmurs with all the blasé non-enthusiasm he can muster. He lights a cigarette, lies on his back and blows smoke into the gaps between the leaves where the sky peaks through.  

Harry hums, unconvinced, and lies down on his back as well. Ironically, given Zayn's new vow to secretly despise Harry until he comes clean about whatever is going on, he does enjoy being his company more so than spending time with the others on occasion. Especially when he's in a funk, even if Harry is the one who caused it. He's got a calming aura or whatever. Zayn's thought this for a while, even when Louis was hellbent on hating Harry, and aside from the fact that Zayn is always, _always_ being on Louis' side, he didn't really ever see the reason.  

Of course, he didn't know the history as well as he thought he did. Not that he had a _right_ to know––not that anyone ever has to tell someone something they'd prefer to keep to themselves––but secrets are bad news, Zayn only needs a few life lessons to know that for a fact.   

"Niall and I might be leaving," Zayn finds himself blurting out, ulterior motives abound. "Next year, to travel some European countries and help out this band on tour." He intertwines his fingers and rests them on his chest. "So, yeah. We won't be coming back to uni."  

There's a pause where all Zayn can hear is the leaves rustling, blended with the distant chatter of students, and then Harry lets out a small sigh. "That's exciting, I'm sure you'll learn more about art when you're out there anyway. Happy for you guys."  

Zayn frowns. "Yeah, we haven't told anyone yet but I thought I'd let you know. Because I think we're close. And you get it, you know?"  

"What do you mean?"  

"I mean like, it must take a certain amount of commitment to a person to give up studying, a job, and a solid living arrangement to go with them. I think it's similar with you and Louis, you know what it's like it be so committed to someone that you'll stay with them no matter what. I just knew you wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy for doing this."   

Another, even longer pause. Zayn is the king of the guilt-trip.  

"Yeah, of course." Harry finally says.   

Zayn groans internally, he's sure that deserved more of a response. He sighs, pushes himself up from the grass and pats Harry's knee once, for good measure, before walking back over to the booth. 

He gets there just as Liam does, a stack of new brochures cradled in his arms, which he sets down on the bench. "Hey Zayn, what are you doing over here?"  

"Clearly I'm helping you guys," Zayn says, rearranging the already perfectly arranged pile of brochures Liam just brought over.   

Liam chuckles and shakes his head. Zayn watches Harry walk back over and sit in the empty chair next to Louis, his hand falling on Louis' thigh like it's the most natural thing, and he wonders how in the hell he never noticed before, how much they compliment each other – they _gravitate_ towards each other, like plants to sunlight. Or whatever. It makes everything monumentally worse.   

Zayn is just about to text Niall and ask him if he wants to take off again, because this is getting hard to watch, when he hears, "Louis!" in a familiar female voice, and he looks up to see a girl standing in front of the booth smiling down at Louis.  

Lottie. Oh shit.  

. . .

Louis stares blankly at his sister for a full thirty seconds before he feels Harry gently elbow him, snapping him out of it.

“Lottie,” he says, getting out of his chair and walking around to the front of the booth, pulling her into a quick hug. It’s weird. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says, with her bright smile that Louis didn’t realize he missed so much until now.

She turns to Zayn who’s leaning casually against the booth, equally as startled by her arrival it would seem. He’s still in that same funk he’s been in all morning. Louis should ask him about it. He should also ask Professor Reynolds if he needs help at the food stall. He should maybe stop trying to run away.

“Hey, Zayn.”

Zayn snaps out of whatever it is for a moment and pulls her into a hug. “Lotts, this is a surprise. Love the hair,” he says, running his hand along her now pastel pink waves.

“Oh thanks, love the ink.” She nods towards Zayn’s exposed forearms.

Zayn smiles. “None for you yet?”

Lottie sighs in a very teenager-y sort of way. “Not old enough apparently.”

Zayn chuckles fondly. Louis wonders how this is so easy for him, it’s been just as long for Zayn, it baffles Louis how well he’s handling this sudden visit. “You’re taller too.”

“Now I can finally kick your ass,” she grins, punching Zayn in the shoulder.

Zayn fully laughs now, while Louis tries his hardest to fade out of existence. “Not likely, love.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Zayn’s made of paper, I swear,” Liam says, squeezing Zayn’s shoulder affectionately. “Hey, I’m Liam. You’re Louis’ sister?”

Lottie smiles, nodding. “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.”

Liam wears one of his dazzling smiles and glances at Louis quickly. “Heard a lot about you.”

That’s blatantly untrue. Maybe Liam is a better liar than Louis thought.

“Uh, so Lottie,” Louis says, finally able to speak again. “Not that I’m not happy to see you but, what are you doing here?”

Lottie bites her lip, her attention returning to Louis. “Can we go talk somewhere?”

Louis’ stomach swoops with anxiety.

“Yeah, sure.”

Without looking at the others, he takes Lottie off the quad and to the entry stairwell to the science building where they sit down on the steps. An ache spreads down Louis’ chest from his throat, but he swallows past it.

“Is everything okay?” Louis asks. Best to get the grit out of the way first.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. And before you panic, mum doesn’t know I’m here – I didn’t run away or anything, I just told her I was going to the cinema but I stopped here instead and saw that this thing was on.”

Louis looks at her. “Wait, why were you going to the cinema in London?”

“We’re staying at one of mum’s Aunt’s for a few days. Family stuff. Because there’s going to be a wedding, remember?”

Louis flushes. “You’re all… here?”

“The house is, like, half an hour away,” Lottie says, nodding. “She um, she didn’t want to impose on your life, since you’ve made it clear you don’t want her to. Also, we don’t know where you and Zayn live.”

“Right, I–I forgot.”

Lottie sighs. She reaches in the space between them and clasps their hands together. “I want you to visit over the holidays, Lou.”

“Lottie–“

“I don’t care. I don’t care that you and her fought and she wasn’t sympathetic when you got hurt. I don’t care that you hate her for what happened with dad and that you hurt your leg and that everything in your life broke apart. I don’t _care._ We’re your family, and you don’t get to just ignore us. We love you, you idiot.”

Louis swallows, minutely. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I could slap you right now.”

“I’d probably deserve it.”

She smiles a little. “I want you to meet Mark.”

Louis shifts gingerly. “Yeah… I will, eventually.”

“It would mean so much to all of us, you know.”

“I will, I promise. Just. Not until exams are over, okay?”

Lottie sighs. “Okay.”

They fall into a semi-uncomfortable silence. Lottie begins fidgeting with the bracelet their dad gave her when she was eight. For a moment, Louis wonders how she could have kept it after he left, but she wasn’t old enough to know what it meant at the time, and Louis would like to keep it that way.

“Was that Harry sitting with you?” Lottie asks, much to Louis’ surprise considering she was a lot younger when he used to come around their house.

Still, he finds himself smiling involuntarily. “Yeah, it was.”

“Really? Wow. Have you _seen_ him?”

Louis grins. “What do you mean?”

“He’s fit. I mean, he always was, but I felt a bit weird saying that when I was like, _barely_ twelve years old. And then you guys stopped being friends which made it even more awkward and – wait, so you’re mates again?”

“Could say that.”

“Why so cryptic?”

Louis smirks. He could tell her about him and Harry, he really could, but that leaves it far too open to the possibility that it could get back to Jay, and he doesn’t want that yet. He has to be the one to tell her. “He’s my neighbour. So yeah, we’re good friends again.”

“So you’re buddies with your once proclaimed mortal enemy again and you didn’t think to tell me? I am so mad at you right now.”

Louis smiles and hugs her from the side. “I love you too, by the way.”

They spend the next twenty minutes like that, catching up and bickering like they used to. It’s almost as nice as it used to be as well, if not for the lingering feeling that Louis’ been gone too long for things to ever be how they used to be. Eventually, Lottie has to catch her bus, so they walk back to the bus stop, washing over memories that Louis pretends aren’t making a cold flush suffuse in his chest.

“How’s Zayn?” Lottie asks, once they’re standing at the bus stop. “It was nice to see him again.”

“He’s good. He’s actually dating one of our neighbours, Niall Horan, if you want to be creepy and look him up on Facebook. He plays guitar and surfs.”

Lottie laughs. “Opposites attract, I suppose.”

“You’ll like him, and our other neighbour, Liam, who you met earlier. I’ll… I’ll invite you over, okay? Once I’ve cleared the air with Jay.”

Lottie turns towards the approaching bus, then back to Louis. “You better.”

Louis pulls her into a hug. “I will. Promise.”

. . .

There’s a bright blue sky stretched over the campus, as it has been all day, but Louis’ really only just noticing it now, as he hesitantly makes his way back to the open day festivities. It’s got to be a sign that everything that just happened is a good thing, because it should be blizzarding down on them at this time of year, and yet everything is completely fine and perfect and Louis doesn’t completely feel like running into oncoming traffic which is generally a good thing.

Harry’s the first face he see’s when he gets back, still apparently not returning to his own booth while he waited, which is a relief on Louis’ part. He’s not, definitely not dependent on Harry keeping his sanity intact, but the sight of the boy is genuinely calming whenever Louis is battling his constant strange emotional confusions.

“You’re smiling, this is a good thing then,” Harry says, tilting his head at Louis. “Right?”

Louis shrugs. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Harry breathes out and cocoons Louis in his arms.

“That wasn’t rhetorical. Am I alive? Was that really just my sister?”

Harry huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, you’re alive. That was Lottie. You survived First Family Encounter of the year. Well done, babe.”

“I feel weird.”

“You alright?”

Louis nods slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”

Harry doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but only casts him one last thoughtful look and then they’re not talking about it anymore. Which is good, because then Louis would have to really ask Harry what’s bothering him if he wants to keep asking Louis that same thing, and that’s a conversation he doesn’t want to have right now.

The day blurs on, and Harry eventually leaves, reluctant as he may be, and Louis throws on a smile and pretends he’s okay, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s doing precisely that.

. . .

The last few days of November pass in a drizzly, thundery haze. Most of Louis’ time is occupied with exams and studying, _actually_ studying this time. He helps Niall decorate the entire house in Christmas decorations since they decided to throw a massive end-of-semester-Christmas-party of the sort, so the house has to look up to scratch. Harry’s weird mood isn’t brought up again, but it has gotten weirder. Much weirder. The kind of weird where he’s clearly trying not to make it weird, but that just makes it worse.

Louis doesn’t want it to be real, so he doesn’t ask. He keeps not asking and ignoring and the better everything gets, the worse it all feels because it doesn’t feel like Harry is really there with him.

On a Friday afternoon, Zayn pulls Louis aside to talk in private. He tells him he and Niall are leaving next year to travel with some indie band. It’s a shock, and it’ll be strange without them there – especially Zayn, who’s been Louis’ rock since they were kids. But he is genuinely happy for them, because for once he’s actually almost genuinely, well, happy.

He thinks.

It also all explains Zayn’s odd mood over the past week, so he’s glad that’s all cleared up. They throw a dinner on Sunday night, so that they can announce it to everyone else, including Jade, Nick and Ed. Louis is surprised to discover that he took the news best out of all of them, especially Liam, who seemed to be balancing between “I’m happy for you!” and “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” Frowns and puppy dog eyes abound.

Harry doesn’t seem bothered at all. Harry doesn’t seem much of anything. He’s just twisting spaghetti with his fork, shoulders stiff and jaw set.

That’s how it’s been, and Louis’ blindly telling himself there’s nothing wrong, all while trying to remember every second he spent with Harry in case this is all because he fucked something up. Maybe he shouldn’t even be surprised if that is the case.

That’s why he’s not surprised, when the gang is all crowded in the living room watching 80’s movies, that Harry leans in the closest he’s been all night and asks if they can talk in his room.

The anxious feeling Louis has been trying to suppress begins to claw its way back.

“Yeah,” he manages, allowing himself to be lead into Harry’s room.

As soon as they sit down on the bed, Louis is walloped with fear. He searches Harry’s face, trying to find something that will convince him otherwise. There’s just nothing.

“I should have told you this sooner,” is the first thing Harry says. And fuck.

_Fuck._

“I’ve been spending every fucking second trying to think of a way to say it so you won’t freak out. That’s why I’ve been so weird lately.” Harry wipes his eyes and sighs. Louis holds his breath. “Um, right, so… I got offered a––currently provisional––placement in this internship program that would run alongside my studies next year. It would give me a ton more experience and a head-start when I actually get out there.”

Louis’ brows draw together. Is that it? Is that the Big Thing?

“Harry, that’s amazing. Why are you acting like it’s a bad thing?”

Harry swallows, seeming genuinely torn up about this. Louis can’t understand why, this all seems like a massive overreaction to him. It’s a good thing, right? Good things can happen to him, and stay happening, and he doesn’t have to worry about it all turning sour. It doesn’t explain why Harry is looking like he’s about to drop some bad news.

“It’s at the University of Manchester,” Harry finally says.

Just like that, Louis feels all the breath punch out of his lungs. The big happy thing inside of him dissolves into nothing.

The moment stretches on forever.

“Which, I’ve been thinking about it and, you know, trying to do a mental pro’s and con’s list, and it would be closer to mum which is great but…”

“You’d be leaving.”

Harry looks pained, and then he’s launching himself at Louis, kissing him desperately, almost panicked. Louis doesn’t, can’t––nothing feels real.

Harry pulls away, breathes against him. “I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want it to mean that we have to end, because I’d give up everything for that not to happen. If you really don’t think we’ll last then I’ll turn it down. It would only be for a year and I can come back on weekends and during the weeks when I don’t have class. Lou, I’ll do anything. I don’t want you to think I’m just leaving you.”

Louis lets that sink in. Remarkably, the floor doesn’t give way, his heart doesn’t physically snap in two. “How long have you known?”

“A week,” Harry says, ashamed. “That’s what Reynolds was talking to me about the other day, when he asked me to babysit. I genuinely didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t want to distract you from your exams because that would make me an even shittier boyfriend and I… I’m so sorry, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. This is incredible, it’s a really––a really great opportunity for you.”

“Yeah, but–“

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, yeah?” Louis cuts him off. “You get to actually help people, this will be wonderful for you. I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re actually okay with this?” Harry asks in disbelief. “Lou, you can say–“

“No, I’m really happy for you.”

Harry’s expression then turns into something relieved. “We’ll make it work, yeah?”

His voice is so hopeful, it actually physically hurts.

And as much as Louis doesn’t want to say no, he has no truthful way to say yes either. But with Harry’s eyes burning into him, on the verge of tears and _needing_ to hear Louis be okay with this, he just repeats, “We’ll make it work.”

Harry’s body visibly sags in relief, like he’s been holding that breath all week. “I love you so much, you know,” he says, taking Louis’ hand in his and pressing his lips to the back of it. “We can talk more tomorrow, if you want?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, smiling even though his bottom lip is quivering. He’s glad it’s dark. “Tomorrow.”

Harry’s mouth forms a half-smile and he shifts to get up.

Louis holds onto the duvet. “I’m actually a little tired, might just stay up here, but you go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks warmly.

“Positive.”

“Okay,” Harry leans in and kisses Louis again. “Thank you for being so great about this. I mean it.”

“Of course.”

And then Harry is gone.

Louis doesn’t know how long he sits there, in the grey-dark of the room gripping the duvet between his fingers. He takes off his shirt. His shirt that’s Harry’s shirt. Lifts the blanket and climbs underneath, and then kicks its off him because it’s _Harry’s_ and everything around him, in every part of his fucking life belongs to Harry now. He’s woven himself into all that Louis had and when he goes there won’t be any amount of showers that could scrub him clean of it.

But he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t fall asleep either, just stares at the windowsill and wishes he could climb down the balcony and kip it in his own room for once, or the couch, or Zayn’s room, or anywhere that doesn’t feel like Harry.

Hours later, he turns to look at the door when it creaks open, his eyes are still dry when they meet Harry’s.

Harry, who smiles at him and says something like: “What are you doing? It’s freezing,” and he pulls the blanket over both of them. Louis didn’t even notice the cold.

Harry bends his head to kiss Louis’ cheek, nudging himself forward to lay his head against Louis’ neck. The darker it gets, the tighter Louis’ chest grows. He feels Harry’s hand over his beating heart and hates himself for feeling like this all over again, hates everything it reminds him of and the bitter twist that will no doubt take permanent residence in his gut because of it.

He turns over, away from Harry, and with the one shred of pride he has left, he tells himself he will not fucking cry over this boy again.


	17. Chapter 17

They don’t talk about it the next day.

Or the day after that.

A whole week passes and they don’t talk about it, and Louis pretends it’s because he’s so completely fine with it that he just forgets, but he doesn’t know who he’s kidding.

Not Zayn, apparently.

“You are so _not_ okay with this,” Zayn says, one morning while Louis is studying at the reception desk at work. Zayn drops his bag down and pulls his chair closer to Louis’. “So, _so_ not okay.”

“What gave you that idea?” Louis asks, bored.

“You left for work early, for one thing.”

“That’s your basis?” Louis says with a weak laugh. “Zayn, I’m fine.”

“I believe that as much as you do.” Zayn takes Louis’ textbook and closes it, setting it back down on the desk. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, let’s go outside. We can close up for a few minutes, no one’s going to be here.”

Louis sighs, no desire to give this conversation an inch more attention than it needs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He lets Zayn pull him up anyway and keep a hold of his hand as they wind their way out the back door to the small, empty courtyard. They sit down on the steps, Louis hugging his knees closer to himself as Zayn fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one in a quick movement and hands it to Louis.

“This is stupid Z, I’m okay,” Louis says, despite his hands shaking as he lifts the smoke to his mouth.

“If you don’t want him to go, you should _tell_ him.”

“No,” Louis says conclusively.

“No? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Louis shrugs. “I’m not going to guilt him into staying, that’ll just make him hate me. And… and I don’t even want him to stay anyway.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, it’s the truth. Really, I’m not… I’m not good for him. This happens no matter what.”

“What does?”

“ _This,_ this stupid, sad state that I always end up in,” Louis sighs. “Every single time, we’re always ending up here.”

“You don’t _have_ to, it doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t help yourself, Lou.”

“I’m _protecting_ myself.”

“You’re not. You can believe that all you want, but you’re not. This is damaging and it’s always going to be come back to Harry just like everything in your life fucking does,” Zayn says, knitting his brows. “You can go through as many people as you want, God knows you have,” he says, nudging Louis with his elbow, “But it will always be him. Don’t give up on that just because of this.”

Louis shakes his head, smiling. “It all sounds very idealistic, Zayn. It just doesn’t work like that for everyone, not everything is so black and white and forever, _I’m_ not fucking built for that kind of life.”

“What does that even mean? That’s something you can change, Lou, you don’t have to be so afraid–“

“Stop talking about it like it’s so fucking easy,” Louis says back. “Just because you’ve got your shit together and you don’t need to stay here anymore–“

“Are you mad about that? Louis, I wouldn’t go if you weren’t okay with it.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to scream,” Louis says into his hands, then drops them down again. “You think I want to hear that from Harry? No, Zayn, I don’t want you to stay. You and me can last through wherever the fuck life takes us, I know that, but Harry and I? Even when he’s _here_ it’s like I need his constant reassurance, and it’s stupid and clingy and I’m not––that’s not me.”

“So you’re just going to…what? End things before he’s even out the door? Does he not get a say in this?”

“He’s said everything he needs to say.”

“And what was that?”

Louis looks down at the ground. “That we could make it work. And I agreed with him.”

“Why’d you do that if you didn’t believe it?”

Louis huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll hate this even more if he stays just because he feels bad. You know that.”

“Clearly, I don’t. I know you struggle with commitment, but there’s no reason for you to block out talking about this. You guys could make a plan, or he could _stay_ -“

“Zayn, he had decided he was leaving before he even told me. He doesn’t want to stay.” Louis flicks the cigarette butt to the concrete and pulls himself up. “But thanks for this chat, really put things into perspective.”

Louis keeps himself busy for the rest of the day, wanting more than anything to just shut it off, that weighty feeling in his chest, and just find a way to stop feeling like this. He has one small moment of optimism while in the horticulture aisle, thinking that maybe him leaving won’t be so bad, because Louis will never not want him, so he won’t have to worry about it changing anything. The thought swims around and around in his head, not that it matters in the slightest.

He’s doing his best to act normal, anyway. Harry always seems to read every emotion Louis feels painted across his face, and it’s not like he can avoid him, they basically live together. At one point, Louis questions whether or not he just needs some space to get his head around someone actually wanting to stay with him in a long distance relationship. It’s completely new territory. But in the end, he just tells himself not to think about it.

He and Jade get to work on putting back a whole new mountain of returns. He sits on the ground shelving books into _Z,_ wondering why there are so many authors with surnames starting with _Z,_ not thinking about Harry. He listens to Jade talk about her sister’s graduation party and going home for Christmas and Louis doesn’t tell her anything at all that’s going on. The day fades away, they move from aisle to aisle, and Louis doesn’t doesn’t does not think about it.

When their shifts are over, Zayn heads off to the music rooms and Louis walks out with Jade.

“Heading home?” he asks, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I have one last exam tomorrow that I need to cram for.”

Louis feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Need some company?”

Jade shrugs. “Sure, if you’re offering. Keen on making me tea when I ask?”

Louis chuckles. “I suppose I can handle that.”

Jade lives in a small studio apartment in the student dorms, so it’s not far to walk from the library. Louis drops his bag at the door and catches the TV remote that Jade throws his way while she sets herself up on the floor.

Hours later and Louis has not moved an inch, aside from the one time he got up and made them some food. He resolutely forgets to check his phone, but he blames that on the strangely addictive daytime soap opera he ended up watching. He ends up muting it every few minutes to listen to one of Jades many freakouts.

“Why do conclusions even exist? It’s a research essay! I shouldn’t have to _conclude_ it––I still have so much to figure out!” she says, fussing over a messy pile of notes.

“Why are you panicking so much? There’s still time, you’ll be fine.” Louis consoles.

“There’s the party tonight and I–“

“Oh, right. The party,” Louis says sombrely. “Well, you’ve still got a few more hours. And you don’t even have to stay long.”

“Yeah, but I _want_ to. And I have to cover the evening shift tonight for Leigh because her car broke down. I sort of have to be there because it’s exam season for some of us still so things are hectic.”

“I can do it,” Louis hears himself saying.

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem, I just–“

“I don’t mind, honestly. I’d actually be grateful.”

Jade pauses, narrowing her gaze. “Is everything okay? Not that I mind that you’re here, but you seem like you’re avoiding something or… someone.”

Louis glances down. “I just needed to take my mind off of some things. I’m okay, really.”

Jade nods. “Alright. And it won’t make you late tonight?”

“It’ll be fine, Jade.”

She breathes out and gets up from her papers to hug him. “You’re a lifesaver, Louis.”

. . .

_Harry: coming to the music rooms for lunch?? I’ll save you some pizza before Liam gets to it xx_

_Harry: Were you busy? :( missing you already. x_

_Harry: Louis._

_Harry: Zayn said you went home with Jade. Cool. Cool._

_Harry: Ok people are officially arriving at the house. Not trying to be clingy, just want to hear from you. Shoot me a text when you can. Love you._

Louis is the worst boyfriend. The absolute worst, letting all these messages pile up for no reason. He’s been fine in the days since Harry told him he’s leaving. He doesn’t know what’s causing this sudden need to shut him out, especially when he’s the only one who really knows how to talk Louis out of this. But that’s the thing –  _this,_ whatever it is that Louis’ feeling, he doesn’t want Harry to see it. And he will if Louis talks to him.

So he sets his phone down face down watches as the last of the students funnel out of the library. Pointlessly, he takes another wander around the aisles just for the sake of it, then takes his time locking up, three times forgetting to switch off the lights.

It’s pouring down outside. Dark, cold, and Louis doesn’t really care. The van is the only vehicle in the parking lot, and when Louis gets inside after the rain has finished beating the hell out of him, he’s dripping wet and numb to the bone.

He grips the steering wheel with cold, wet hands, shaking, blinking away the dampness in his eyes. The rain makes rivulets on the window, distorting the view of black nothing. He should turn on the van so he can warm up but his limbs just will not cooperate.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to go home. It’s just. It’s like everything giant, pulsing, angry and sad inside of him is beaming through his skin, he feels like he’s drowning in it. He doesn’t want to be alone. He doesn’t want anyone to see him. He doesn’t want to think about Harry moving across the country and meeting new interesting people and forgetting all of this. He doesn’t want things to be weird when he comes back.

The worst part is that he _knew._ Since the beginning, since his dad left, since fucking _Aiden,_ he knew. And he let his guard down for Harry, and it was the most idiotic thing he could have ever done. He doesn’t want to see him, he can’t.

He needs his mum.

 _God,_ he hasn’t thought that in a long, long time.

Except why would she want to see him now? After all he’s done. He’s still just her coward son who ran away and is still running.

Somehow he starts to drive, though he doesn’t know how long he’s stayed sitting there. The rain hasn’t subsided, so he hopes it hasn’t been too long. Because if his absence is noticed at home then he’ll have to explain why, and that’s something he isn’t sure he can do.

He parks up a few houses down due to the lack of parking space in front of their house. The hum of the music is already reaching him, but he manages to tune it out as he switches off the ignition. He spends five minutes sitting in the van, forehead against the steering wheel before he musters up the will power to go inside.

He gets out, breathing in the cold nighttime air and feeling like he’s underwater. Christmas lights dot coloured stars along the front patio, and Louis is quick to get upstairs before anyone can take any notice of him. He dumps his bag at the end of the bed, takes off his coat and takes a minute to catch his breath. He sits on the edge and rubs his hands over his face, breathing in and out and wondering what the hell is wrong with him.

Just as Louis is about to suck it up and go downstairs, the door opens, and Harry walks in.

“I thought it was you,” Harry says, walking closer. “Jade told me you were covering her shift. You didn’t… text me back or anything.”

Louis feels his throat seize up. “Yeah, sorry. Phone died.”

What is _wrong_ with him??

“Okay,” Harry says, though the word is terribly weighted. “You all right?”

Louis nods, standing up. “Yeah, just putting my bag down.” He grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him closer, confidently, so he can press a kiss to his cheek. “Make me some food please? I’m starving.”

Harry’s gaze stays where it is for a moment, but then his lips quirk upwards and he pulls Louis in with his arm draped over his shoulders, where Louis fits perfectly, and they head back down to the party.

He is getting over it. He _is._

. . .

Liam is dressed up as Santa Claus––though, the beard apparently got too itchy and wearing pillows stuffed in the coat was uncomfortable so he’s really just a guy wearing red pajama-like clothes that are a few sizes too big, and a red Santa hat. He still manages to make it look good, to no one’s surprise.

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas Tommo!” he shouts happily when Louis makes it over to him. They’ve decorated one of the living room chairs to be a throne, Louis is rather impressed.

“This is a good look on you,” Louis says, smiling. His first genuine smile of the day.

Liam pats his lap invitingly and Louis takes a seat. Liam’s arm fits snuggly around his waist. “Twenty-year olds appreciate the whole Santa thing more than kids do, I’ve had like thirty people sit on my lap so far and just ask for, like, five bucks,”

Louis laughs, and Liam takes a quick picture of them on his phone.

“Sending it to Sophia, she’s stuck with her entire extended family for the winter,” Liam says, slipping his phone back in his massive pocket. “Speaking of, where’s Harry?”

“Getting us a drink,” Louis says, just as Harry reappears carrying two steaming cups. “Ooh, thank you.”

Harry slouches down next to Liam. “Watch where you put those hands, mister,” he says with a small smirk.

After a song change, Louis shifts to get up but Liam makes an unhappy noise. “ _No,_ you can’t leave before telling me what you want for Christmas.”

_I want Harry to stay._

No. Louis’ _not_ thinking that.

“I want _you_ to learn how to cook so we don’t starve next year,” is what Louis ends up with, amusement in his tone. He pecks Liam on the cheek and then takes Harry’s hand onto their impromptu dance floor.

There’s mistletoe, which Harry keeps “stumbling upon” in every part of the house that they end up in, and they kiss amongst the swirl of bodies and soak in the warmth of each other and everyone else, and Louis is _fine,_ really, completely. And when Harry sways him back and forth in his arms as some slow, bittersweet song plays, Louis doesn’t think about it. Not when Harry whispers how much he loves him, or when the back of his throat becomes so unpleasantly tight that he worries he won’t be able to breathe.

In the kitchen, leaning against a counter and Harry leaning against him picking at a bowl of chips, Nick stumbles up to them wearing a lopsided elf hat.

“Harry!” he cheers loudly, cup in hand. “Santa Claus over there told me you’re leaving us?”

Louis’ stomach churns.

Harry coughs into his hand, huffing a small laugh. “I’ll never forget you, mate. You’ll always have a special place in my heart,” he says, and Louis feels slightly hurt that he can joke about it already. Harry goes to rest his arm on Louis’ shoulders but Louis flinches away without meaning to.

He see’s Harry glance down at him in the corner of his vision, and pretends he doesn’t notice.

Nicks face lights up.

“I’m happy for you man, you’re a bigshot already!”

“Wouldn’t say that.” Harry’s voice sounds weaker. Louis did that. Fuck. “Really, Nick, it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re so modest,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a huge deal! This could change your life, man!”

As Nick continues to drunkenly ramble, Louis leans up to say, “I’ll be back in a sec’,” into Harry’s ear and he darts off before he has to explain himself.

The only place of promised solitude is the bathroom. There’s a guy leaning next to the door, causing Louis to halt and catch Jade's eye as she's standing nearby. He's desperate for his hopeless expression not to give away too much. “Are you going in or…”

The guy shakes his head. “Nope. Go ahead.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Louis starts crying as soon as he closes the bathroom door.

The really awful, blubbering kind that’s near impossible to control. His face crumples within seconds, tears rushing down before he can do anything about it. He collapses on the floor as if it had taken the feeling from his legs too.

Against the side of the bath, Louis hugs his knees to his chest and tries _so fucking hard_ not to think about it, about being alone, because this is making him irrationally sad. It’s just a fucking relationship, just a person, just a concept that Louis should have never lowered his defenses to, and he feels _so_ stupid for doing exactly that.

Louis knows he should be grateful that Harry even stuck around for this long, though being his neighbour he hasn’t had much of a choice. He wishes things were different, that maybe if they didn’t have a past then none of this would have happened. Though, that’s doubtful.

Louis knows all about those awkward moments when someone comes home after being away for so long, interests change and suddenly your lives don’t involve each other, there’s nothing to talk about and things shift apart, and no matter how hard you try to stop that from happening, it always, _always_ does.

He wipes pointlessly at his eyes. If he even dreams of going back down to the party, it will not be looking like this. Red splotchy eyes, sniffling and barely able to breathe. He can’t let Harry see him like this, but he can’t even fucking move, he’s so paralyzed by this feeling – whatever it is. Wanting someone so bad you can’t breathe and can’t move and the world might as well have stopped turning because not one part of it matters without them. Louis doesn’t want it.

It’s only five minutes before he hears them.

“…in the bathroom,” Jades voice floats through the closed door, and Louis freezes. “He looked upset, just so you know.”

“Thanks, Jade,” Harry replies, and just the sound of his voice sends prickles up Louis’ neck.

The next thing he hears is a light knock at the door. “Lou, can I come in?”

Louis stares at the door and doesn’t respond, mainly because he doesn’t trust that his voice will sound like anything passable to convince Harry to just go away. Maybe he’ll leave if he just says nothing. Though, that’s a stretch.

Louis frantically scrubs a hand over his face, sniffing one last time as the door knob turns slowly, though he knows he must still look an absolute mess. He just wants to turn the lights off and disappear. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

When Harry steps into the bathroom and sees him there, with red-rimmed eyes and on the floor with his arms wrapped so tightly around himself like he’s afraid of _everything,_ he almost looks as though he’s about to cry himself. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sits down next to Louis and takes one of his hands.

“C’mon, lets get out of here,” Harry says in a soft tone, unexpectedly.

“W-what?” Louis looks at him, confused.

“It’s too loud, we need to get out.” Harry pulls Louis up, wets a towel and dabs it over Louis’ face till he’s all cleaned up. Then he takes his hand and grabs their coats out of their room, before heading downstairs, out the door, and into the van.

“You don’t have to leave because of me,” Louis says.

“It was getting dull anyway,” Harry says, turning the key.

Louis breathes out. “What are we doing, Harry?” he asks, unsure if he’s even talking about tonight.

Harry pulls out of the drive. “We need to get out.”

“And go where?”

“Well, I do know that we’re out of that tea you like, so maybe a trip to Tesco’s will help clear your head?”

Louis takes a shuddery breath. “How romantic.”

“I knew I had a good reason not to drink tonight.”

Louis makes a noise, self-deprecatingly. “Did you pre-plan my mental breakdown and our grocery trip?”

Harry just smiles softly and gives Louis’ knee a comforting squeeze. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Louis involuntarily emits a strangled noise. “Great.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay,” Harry says in a soothing tone, sounding _actually_ okay with this. He’s not, Louis knows it.

Fortunately for Louis, Harry turns up the volume of the radio and eliminates the possibility for awkward silences. Louis would much rather throw himself out of the car than sit through that.

Harry doesn’t let him come in with him when they get to the store, and when he returns a few minutes later, he has a lot more than tea in his shopping bags.

“Hop in the back,” Harry says, and Louis does.

Harry sits on the van floor with him and empties the contents of the bag. A bottle of wine, pre-cooked vege lasagna and two bars of chocolate.

Louis gazes at him. “What’s all this?”

“Our second date,” Harry says with a smile. “Because I’ve been a lousy boyfriend and you deserve this.”

“You haven’t been lousy.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be okay with this.”

“I am–“

“Don’t, Lou,” Harry shakes his head. “I should have––I know you don’t tell me everything about… like, your feelings and stuff, and that’s okay, but the things you have told me… I should have known you’d be hurt. I just wanted to believe that me and you felt the same way, but to be honest, I don’t even know how you feel about _me_ most of the time.”

“C’mon, Harry. You know how I feel about you.”

“How am I _supposed_ to know? You’ve never even…” Harry shakes his head, like whatever he was about to say isn’t what he meant to. “I know this is hard for you. You don’t… have to say you love me for me to know you’re going to be there. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Louis knows what Harry wants to hear, he just––he doesn’t know how to give away that little part of himself he still has to hold on to. Harry already has so much of him.

“What’s the point?” he finds himself saying, a knot in his stomach. “I cause you so much shit that you shouldn’t have to deal with, I’m not worth it.”

“No, _no,_ fuck that, okay?” Harry sets his eyes on Louis. “I don’t know how you could even consider that you don’t mean enough to me. Relationships are all about persevering and accepting the fact that there will be difficult times, but there’s still reason to try when you feel this way.”

“How long, though, before it all gets too much? Having to travel just to spend a couple days together and then kiss goodbye. How long is that seriously gonna last?”

Harry sighs. “That’s why I wanted to talk about it. You never want to talk about the future and I don’t know why, but we need to if this is going to work.”

“And decide on what? What’s your big fucking plan to solve this?”

“I don’t know! At least I’m fucking trying! You act like you don’t even want this to last.”

Louis takes a rough breath, teeth nervously pulling at his lip. “I’m not going to let myself get hurt again,” he says quietly, before he even knows the words are coming out.

Harry falls silent for what feels like forever. Then he sighs softly, shifting in closer to Louis’ space. “Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.”

“I know you don’t mean to. I’m not trying to say that any of this is your fault because it’s not. I have never known how to feel around you, because it’s always too much and that fucking terrifies me,” Louis says, feeling the words spilling out of him. He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes.

Harry dips his head to kiss him. “It’s okay.”

“I’m,” Louis’ throat catches. Harry’s palm flattens over his knee. “I’m terrified I’ll be destroyed when you leave. And that alone scares me because I’m always basing my happiness on whether or not someone else loves me. I’ve never felt this way, I’ve never needed someone so bad and with you it’s like I just want to run away because it’ll help minimize collateral damage. I want to be okay when you go, God, I want to. I just don’t know how.”

“Okay, I understand,” Harry says calmly. “I want us to talk. I want you to tell me how you really feel about this.”

“I don’t want you to stay for me, that’s the honest truth,” Louis says. “I’ve got… abandonment issues, I guess. But I don’t want you to give this up for me.”

“Lou, if it’ll hurt you this much–“

“No, you don’t understand,” Louis shakes his head. “It happened with my parents. I’ll spare you the gorey details and just tell you dad got a promotion but he had to be relocated to take it. Jay didn’t want to move, and suddenly they were fighting about everything––the little things, like running out of milk or which one of them would take us to school. Then he was just gone.” Louis sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “If you ever think I would hold you back from something that could be really good for you, then you don’t know me.”

“ _You’re_ good for me though,” Harry tells him, looking right into his eyes. “I’d be broken if this ruined us. It’d be my fault.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Trust me, if anything ruined us, it’d be me.” Before Harry can argue, Louis says, “I want to tell you… the things that make me like this. I want you to know why.”

Harry nods, sitting back hesitantly. Patient. Louis’ glad they have all night.

He begins with the sore subject of Aiden Grimshaw and the naïve teenage Louis who was so in love with the idea of being in love. At the time, that’s what it felt like with Aiden, in a school that was sorely lacking in boys Louis would actually take interest in and vice versa, Aiden was there and he was this gorgeous, older boy who played an important role in helping Louis realize he was gay. He listened to bands Louis had never heard of before and looked at the world in a way that absolutely fascinated him. Louis just wanted to be loved and wanted and _his._ It didn’t matter that, around anyone else, Aiden pretended he didn't exist.

And that’s where Harry came in, and for the first time, Louis actually felt like he mattered. But he thought there was no way he could feel that way for two people, and not to mention, he was genuinely convinced Harry was straight. So none of it felt important, and eventually, he started feeling like Aiden had just kept him around out of convenience, but for so long, he ignored it.

Not long after he caught Aiden with Harry, his dad walked out, and Louis couldn’t get his head around it. He didn’t think parents were supposed to leave when things got hard, but he left his wife and kids and when he did, Louis didn’t leave his room for a week. Eventually Jay had walked in and shouted _why aren’t you helping me with this? I can’t carry it all on my own._ So Louis told her about Aiden and Harry, and the sympathy he expected wasn’t even close to what he got. She told him he can cry about his problems when they’re actually real, and to move on and get over it because life isn’t going to stop just because he’s sad about a boy.

Louis was hanging by a thread as it was, but for a while, he stayed, and told himself he was over it, and really believed it too. But then he hurt his knee during the first year of his football scholarship and it dredged up everything he had been pushing back –  _worthless, failure, nothing._ His dad sent a check to help pay for the medical bills, he didn’t even pop in to see if he was okay. Jay was mad, though Louis didn’t know who she was angrier at, he just knew that he couldn’t bare to listen to her cry every night anymore. So he left.

Zayn was already studying at the time, so he stayed with him, enrolled in uni for the following year, and thus started the long line of meaningless fucks with people he knew from work or even high school, and people he met at bars and clubs. His heart was spilling everywhere and he was trying to pick it up and lock it away. He thought he could get everything out of his system, Harry and Aiden and trying to make up for the way it felt not to be wanted. Because, if all those other guys wanted him, and they didn’t even know him, then that had to mean something. Except the next day, he’d always wake up painfully alone and with little recollection of the previous night, or why he did it. Nothing felt good, and nothing about him would feel good to anyone else because he had ruined himself too much for anyone else to want him.

“Then,” Louis breathes out. “By some miracle, you came back into my life. I swear part of the reason I was so mad at you was because I thought there was no way I’d get a second chance. I didn’t deserve it. I still. I still don’t think I do sometimes. Even when you say it, when you tell me how much you love me, it’s like… there’s no way that can be real. And it doesn’t matter what I feel or what anyone feels because everyone always leaves, and no one cares if you fucked them in a bathroom, or disappeared after a one night stand. You’re not good enough, not memorable enough, not important enough for it to matter. So it’s easier when you stop caring as well.” He folds his arms on top of his knees. “I guess, that’s it.”

Louis finally falls silent, unsure of what to expect. He tries to get himself to look at Harry, but finds that he can’t look up. He does feel lighter, but now that everything, all of it, it’s all out there, he’s petrified.

Then the sound of a sniff reaches his ears, and Louis’ eyes shoot up. Harry looks… he looks absolutely shattered.

“Harry…”

“I can’t believe I’m fucking leaving you as well,” Harry says, brokenly. “I can’t believe how awful I was to you in high school when you were going through so much shit.”

“No, Haz, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m not blaming you, we both did things we regret. I’m just trying to explain _why_ I’m so upset and weird about everything. I’ve never really said all of it, and you deserve to hear, so you can make the decision for yourself. I’m serious, I want you to do what’s best for you.”

Harry sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know what we’re going to do okay? But I know I want to do it with you, whatever happens. If you think we can make this work too.”

Louis waits for it, for the visceral feeling of hurt and loss to hit him like it should, but it doesn’t come. It’s something else instead, something warm when he looks at Harry. “Yeah, I think we can,” he promises, and when Harry’s expression barely changes, he slides his hand across to his jaw and tilts his head forward to press their lips together.

The kiss stays unhurried, comforting and slow, and when Harry pulls away, Louis thinks he’s sealed the deal. He looks happier.

“Okay?” Louis checks, tilting his head.

Harry nods, looking at Louis with literal stars in his eyes. “Yeah,” he replies, wiping his own eyes. Louis momentarily despises himself for having causes that. “I feel like dates aren’t supposed to be this emotional.”

Louis giggles, in time with the fluttery beat of his heavy heart. “Go on then, spoil me.”

. . .

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about doing something else,” Harry says, twisting the almost empty bottle of wine that sits precariously between their laps. “I thought about doing music instead, because I know that’s something I can always fall back on, but it’s not really a passion, not like how it is for Niall. I want to help people in another way, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“When I went to see mum that last time, I walked past the Children’s ward and I just… there were kids in there with conditions worse than hers and it was so heartbreaking. I have to do this. There’s nothing else.”

Louis smiles and tucks their hands together. “You’re so lovely. If I didn’t already know you had it in you to be a complete dick, I’d doubt your existence.”

“Hey,” Harry raises a brow. “You had it coming.

Louis can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Oh?”

Harry nods with a sheepish grin. “You made me fall in love with you.”

Oh. Louis smiles as he soaks in the warmth of his words. “Sorry for that massive inconvenience.”

Harry smirks and reaches forward, anchoring Louis’ jaw with his hands. The kiss is soft at first, but Louis feels himself twitch, like he’s never going to get enough of him, and like this is one of the last times they could be doing this––which is something he definitely does not dwell on.

In the blink of an eye, he’s pulling Harry against him as he lies down, and Harry is kissing him hard against the van floor.

They take their time slowly kissing each other, warm and bright against everything else. Louis can feel himself yearning to have Harry closer, swelling deep inside him. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone more in his life––he knows he hasn’t. And the pain of everything he’s been carrying leaves him wanting it to hurt.

Louis feels his fingertips brush against the smooth skin of Harry’s back beneath his shirt, sliding along the muscles there. Louis’ fingers dance over the ridges of his ribcage, moving upwards until Harry accommodates by raising his arms so Louis can help him pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

Louis follows in suit, losing his shirt just as quickly. His skin shivers with the warmth exuding Harry’s body, and from his own as it touches the cool air, the contrast is defeated however when Harry’s hands slip over him like it’s something unexplored that he’s desperate to figure out, mapping his hips, his waist, his neck, and Louis thinks he could quite easily stay here forever, on the hard floor of the van, if Harry promised never to stop touching him like this.

Their languid kisses quickly build into a fiery battle of moremoremore and without meaning to, he scratches his nails lightly over Harry’s strong back, feeling him tense and groan and kiss him harder. The sounds Harry makes are equally as satisfying, though still not enough. And Louis is adamant. While Harry begins on the underside of Louis’ jaw, Louis shuffles out of his jeans, and the thin remaining fabric slips off of him too.

Harry breaks away from his neck, glancing slowly down Louis’ body. “How did you do that so quickly?”

Louis licks his lips. “Practice. Maybe you should take note,” he says, making a small suggestion with his eyes. “Though you have always been a bit slow–“ he’s cut off with another kiss, and his eyes flicker closed with the sensation of it. When he opens them again, Harry is stark naked and gazing down at Louis with a look Louis cannot believe is directed at him.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly, his hair hanging over him and brushing against Louis’ cheek. “What do you want?”

Louis’ hands find the back of Harry’s neck, and they drape over him in a thoughtless effort to pull Harry down towards him. “What do _you_ want?”

“I want to make you happy,” Harry says, and it’s so cheesy, and so absolutely heartfelt and genuine that Louis feels like he’s tearing up all over again.

“It works both ways, Haz,” Louis whispers, not trusting his voice anymore. He presses his lips to Harry’s forearm, just lightly tracing the skin there. “Tell me what you want.”

Harry briefly sucks on his bottom lip. He lowers himself down, down, down so that his lips are brushing against Louis’ ear, warm breath against him, and Louis can hear each shuddery intake. “Want you inside of me,” he whispers. Louis almost combusts on the spot.

“God, yes,” Louis forces out in a stammering breath. “Want that too.”

In one quick movement, he flips them over, switching their positions, and allows himself a moment to just let his eyes roam over his unbelievable boyfriend. Even with his vision a little obscured, the only lighting being small slivers from the streetlights coming through the windscreen, it still hits him like a freight train, how beautiful Harry is. Louis doesn’t, and won’t ever, understand how he could deserve any of this.

He glances around the van, reaching into one of the essential bags kept in here to get the handy bottle of lube and a condom. He slicks up two fingers, feeling the burn of Harry’s eyes on him, knowing he enjoys watching, and then glances down at Harry’s legs, which he spreads accordingly, and settles himself between.

Louis slides his slick fingers over Harry’s hold, feeling Harry clench and hiss at the touch, eyes fluttering closed and a small pleased grin settling on his face. He moves them again, easing him into it, watching as one of Harrys hands grasps at the scattered blankets beneath them and the other slides down his own stomach.

“Hey, hey,” Louis stops him with his free hand, twining Harry’s fingers with his own. “Not yet.”

Harry groans in response, letting out little desperate half sounds. His dick twitches, and Louis knows how badly he must want to stroke himself, or have Louis do it for him, and he must say, he’s feeling sort of great to have all of this control. He can tell Harry likes it too, the withdrawals, it’s getting Louis hard just thinking about what it must be like for him, even if it’s taking every ounce of his self-control not to just let him have it.

He relents just one finger, slipping it inside slowly, carefully working him up to it. Another finger, and the effect causes momentum immediately. Harry’s body moving in sync with Louis’, rocking back and forth to meet his every move, his ribcage rising and falling in short, shuddery motions. Louis parts his fingers slightly, opening him up further, deeper. Harry gasps sharply and Louis can see his mouth fall open, can feel the shallow panting escape him in a rhythmic pattern.

Harry draws in a gasping breath. “Please––please, Lou, I want–“

Louis glides his fingers in to the knuckles, watching as Harry’s hips jerk forward. “Want what?”

Harry’s voice is completely ruined. “Want you to fuck me.”

There’s a resounding need to keep teasing Harry until he’s begging him, but Louis is also being help back from getting himself off – due to his hands being otherwise occupied. And well, he’s so hard just from this that anything else would be ridiculous.

He pulls his fingers out gently, a small whine leaving Harry’s throat at the sudden departure, and he lets go of his hand. He tears open the condom package and slips it out, then unrolls it completely with one slick slide of his fist. The touch is a shock, and the sudden sensation has Louis gasping and holding himself up by Harry’s hip.

“Need a hand?” Harry says coyly, lifting his hips.

Louis snickers and pushes him back down, holding his gaze, he settles himself further in between Harry’s legs, lifting then up so that his legs draw up over Louis’ shoulders. Harry looks up at him with a smile and he winks. Louis is so, so incredibly fucked.

He pushes in slow, watching Harry’s face slacken, his eyes close. His body thrums against Louis’ eagerly and Louis presses against him, listening to the small noises escaping his boyfriend. His own breath is coming out short and harsh, holding Harry there and feeling his body tense with each thrust. Sweat is beginning to dampen their skin in a sticky, sex-induced haze, and he doesn’t feel the weather outside, not when Harry looks like that. When their bodies move together, Harry wraps his legs tight around Louis’ waist and Louis takes that as a cue to pick up speed.

“JesusfuckingChrist,” Harry stammers, his thighs quivering but not relenting. Louis starts snapping faster for a few seconds, desperate sounds coming from both of them, he doesn’t even know who’s making them anymore. Harry’s hips buck up, and Louis holds him back down, pushing in deeper because it’s all he can mange without coming.

“Faster, Lou––I’m so close,” Harry forces out breathlessly, and so Louis goes faster, knocking Harry forward each time. Then suddenly it becomes too much, Louis leans forward, his forehead pressing against Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s hand firm on the back of his neck. Harry lets out something that sounds like a sob, and Louis feels it too, all through him.

It’s almost simultaneous, they both seem to react at the same time, groaning and trembling. Thunder cracks overhead, and Harry squeezes his eyes shut as his own cock spills all over his lower stomach. Louis pulls out, withdrawing his hips enough to tug off the condom and wrap his hand tight around himself.

“On my stomach,” Harry says, polite as ever.

Louis climbs up over Harry’s hips and gives himself a few quick tugs. Harry watches him like he’s never seen anything better in his life than Louis jerking himself off on top of him, the fucker even folds his arms behind his head and smirks with those bitten red lips, desperately trying to look like he’s holding it together better than he is. Louis only lasts a few seconds, his mouth parting with a groaning sigh as he comes, bliss shooting through his body and spilling all over Harry’s abs.

He feels his legs shaking, and only then becomes aware of how hard the van floor is on his knees. He just manages to get off of Harry and lie down next to him, catching his breath. Harry brings one of the blankets over their bodies.

Louis’ head is swimming in a post-orgasm haze when Harry slowly leans over him, tucking a sweaty curl behind his ear, and he slides their lips together, kissing him until they both have aching lungs and the world outside is drowned out by the feeling of their bodies pressed together, gripping with such an incredible need that everything else suddenly seems distant and unimportant. When Harry stops kissing him, he lets his eyes wander over Louis’ face, muted green swimming with emotion.

Louis can’t help but think that everything suddenly feels different, the whole atmosphere changing into something softer, more delicate, especially when the muted lights illuminate parts of Harry’s face and Louis’ heart stutters just from looking at him. Harry gives him a wordless smile, exhaling as he lies back down by his side.

Louis begins to notice how loud the rain is on the ceiling, rattling from it, but his attention is stolen yet again when he hears Harry dissolve into laughter next to him.

Louis’ face breaks out into a lazy smile. He turns his head on its side. “What?”

Harry’s shining gaze is already focused on him. “I feel like we’re stuck on a loop, or something. One day we’re fine, the next we’re questioning whether any of this is ever going to end happy. It’s just fucking hilarious because none of it even matters, _this,_ you and me, it’s all I care about. It’s all that matters.”

 _Then stay,_ Louis thinks, but would never say. He breathes a soft laugh and shifts to be closer to Harry, leaning against his chest and smiling down on him. He can feel each rise and fall of the breaths that are lifting his chest, so close and comforting that Louis doesn’t think he can bare to separate from him ever again.

“Hm?” Harry raises his eyebrows curiously.

“I’m happy we still have this,” Louis says, ignoring the bittersweet notions tied to his words. “Our friendship. I know things are clearly quite different now, but I’m glad us fucking hasn’t changed that. You’re still my best friend.”

Harry’s eyes are kind and gentle as he gazes back at Louis, his expression softening to the point where Louis’ chest aches to look at it. “I promise we’ll stay that way.”

Louis must fall asleep sometime after that, because the next time he opens his eyes, it’s to his phone buzzing. He scrambles for it, Harry only stirring enough to make an unhappy noise.

_Liam: u guys all good? I saw u leave earlier.,, u knoo we shud always tell each other where we go wen we leave.., wat if i find u in a ditch sumwhere!! SAFETY lou :( :( :(_

Louis drops his gaze down at Harry who is still sound asleep, his face slackened and peaceful, and Louis definitely hates himself for having to wake him. He slides closer slowly.

“Harry,” Louis says, shaking him gently.

Harry wakes up slowly, blinking his eyes open and emitting a slow hum, a groggy smile blooming across his face. “We leaving?” he asks, his rough voice almost causing Louis to lose his train of thought.

“Yeah, Liam drunk texted me. I think going AWOL without telling anyone is a little concerning for some people,” Louis says, grabbing his clothes.

Harry grins and sits up as well, taking his shirt from Louis. “Well some people have no sense of adventure, then.” He slips on his pants and reaches around Louis to grab his jeans. Once they’re dressed, Louis steadies his hands on the front seats and lifts himself into the drivers seat while Harry hops into the passenger side.

As Louis pulls out of the park, his earlier feelings of dismay seem to have been replaced with a precarious sense of euphoric bliss. He knows it won’t last, but the knowledge that Harry is doing everything he can, _saying_ anything he can to get Louis to realise how loved he is, it can hold him over for a little while longer.


	18. Chapter 18

“I can’t believe I’m missing your birthday,” Zayn says for about the hundredth time as he hauls his suitcase down the front porch. “Seriously. First time ever. Since your birth.”

“I’m older than you, but sure, okay,” Louis says, grinning and breathing out warm air into the arctic weather.

Zayn stuffs his suitcase in their car and slams the door shut. “I don’t even celebrate Christmas. I shouldn’t be forced to go home like everyone else.”

“Why _are_ you going?” Liam asks, hauling his own bags towards the van.

Zayn sighs and leans back against the car, tucking his fingerless-gloved hands into his pockets. “Mum wants the whole family there for New Years, and we’re going to this cabin over Christmas for some quality time, since she _never sees me ever._ ” Zayn makes a face. “That’s so not true, I tag her in all my selfies on Facebook so she won’t forget what I look like.”

“Not quite the same, babe,” Niall says with a wink.

“Is this everything?” Harry asks, setting one of Liam’s Marvel suitcases in the back of the van.

Liam nods, sliding the door closed. “That’s it.”

Emotional hugs are shared––Zayn and Niall are a little over-dramatic, but who is Louis to judge––and then that’s it. Liam and Niall are hopping into the van and driving off for their shared family holidays. Zayn reluctantly leaves shortly after, and Louis is left all alone with Harry, and this is how it’s going to be for the next couple of weeks. And that’s good. Alone time with his boyfriend is good. Even when his boyfriend is leaving in two months and Louis isn’t holding onto any hope that things will remain the same after that, despite what he keeps telling Harry.

Louis is completely, completely fine though. Even Zayn had said he was dealing with it better than he thought he would. So there, he has the Zayn seal of approval. He’s dealing with it. Words out of Zayn’s own mouth. He dealt with it when Harry went to visit Anne for a couple of days after the party, and Louis decided to stay home and help Liam with the “winter cleaning”. They skyped about nothing that really mattered and Louis only said goodbye once before ending the call, and it was fine.

And when Louis woke up and Harry had come back and crawled into bed with him, a thunderstorm rattled the house, and they took the blankets downstairs and ate cookie dough out of the bowl while Niall was baking. They watched Christmas movies in each other’s arms, Harry’s head against his chest, and they eventually fells asleep on the couch together.

And it was _fine._

The rest of the day is fine. They fuck each other senseless as soon as they get back inside and curl up on the couch watching crime shows and eating leftovers, stumbling back to bed sometime late at night with their fingers hooked together and kissing in the dark, trying to hold onto moments like sand slipping between their fingers.

And in the morning, Louis expects another completely fine day, except when he wakes up, the spot next to him is cold and empty.

He squints one eye open, taking in the ruffled sheets where Harry should be. He turns to his other side, checking his phone, but there are no messages. He must have gone for a run, Louis thinks, pulling the covers back over himself and closing his eyes.

When he opens them again, it’s to the door creaking open as Harry slips back in. He tip-toes over to the bed, crawling over top of Louis and singing something quietly in his ear. Louis’ lips quirk into a lazy grin.

“Hey,” Louis says, shivering as Harry’s lips touch his neck. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I am.”

“Where did you run off to?”

“I went to uni.”

Louis’ brows draw together curiously and he sits up properly, squinting at Harry who’s smiling so bright it’s almost blinding. “Why, exactly?”

Harry shrugs with coy show of nonchalance. “Had to drop off a form.”

Louis stares at him for a beat. “Are you going to elaborate?”

Harry looks like he’s about to burst, but he’s really taking his damn time. “Well, there’s actually something I haven’t been telling you.”

“Okay,” Louis says, his voice is low, serious.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Harry says quickly. “I had a meeting with one of the head of departments the other day to talk about the internship. I told her it wasn’t gonna work out–“

“Harry, I don’t want you to–“

“Let me finish,” Harry says. “I asked if there was any alternative that I could transfer to and still live here. She worked out that my grades were good enough to take part in a more advanced program here, I just have to pick up a few extra classes over summer school and keep my grades up. I just finished filling out the papers last night.”

Louis blinks. “Hold on, what?”

Harry bites down on his bottom lip, holding back his grin. “I’m not leaving, I’m staying with you.”

“I…” Louis begins, and then stops and starts again. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Harry nods eagerly. “It’s genuinely a better opportunity than the one in Manchester. I just have to work a little harder but I’m happy to do that.”

Part of Louis wants to feel as excited as Harry looks, but the other still needs to make sure. “What about the distance, I mean, to your family?”

“You’re my family.”

Louis softens. “I’m not the one you _need_ to spend time with though.”

Harry just smiles wider and shakes his head. “I’ll be able to get extra time off to visit them. Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of.”

“Harry, I don’t want you to stay just for me.”

“Are you even listening to me? We’re in this together. This works out best for everyone and it’s all sorted. Also, there’s no _just_ about you and I’m personally offended that you would say that.”

Louis’ face breaks out into a grin, finally. “So you’re staying.”

Harry’s smile bursts, and he leans in to kiss Louis’ nose, then his forehead, then his lips. “So we can stop being weird around each other now?”

“It hasn’t been weird.”

“It’s been completely weird.”

Louis sighs, knowing he’s right. “I just didn’t want to do the whole Ross and Rachel thing.”

Harry blinks at him. “The what?”

Louis breaks into a pitiful laugh, because, seriously. “You know, on _Friends,_ Rachel doesn’t take her dream job in Paris because Ross wants her to stay, she got off the plane and whatnot when we all know she should have stayed. I don’t want to be Ross.”

Harry’s face floods with amusement. “You’re definitely not Ross, baby,” he says, grinning wide. “And I don’t think a med student program is quite the same as working for _Louis Vuitton._ I’m still doing the work experience. I’ll just be doing it here.”

Louis nods slowly, leaning into Harry’s smiling kiss. “We should celebrate or something.”

“Definitely,” Harry agrees. “None of the good stuff though, it’s a special occasion tomorrow.”

“It is?”

“Lou, it’s your birthday. Don’t even pretend you forgot.”

Louis genuinely did though. During these past couple of awkward weeks, Louis hasn’t exactly had a chance to think about anything other than Harry leaving. His birthday was barely on the agenda.

“Well, _I_ remembered, of course,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ lips, his voice smug and his lips stretched so wide they can barely manage to kiss him fully. “I missed you, and you didn’t even go anywhere.”

Louis understands completely. “I missed you too.”

Harry smiles and kisses Louis one last time before laying back down on the mattress, curled up against him. “Let’s just stay in bed a little longer.”

“Until tomorrow, even.”

He feels Harry grinning. “Sounds perfect.”

. . .

Louis’ birthday begins with the best sleep of his life being interrupted by what sounds like a hundred texts at once. Louis had assumed he had a few friends, but this is pushing it a little.

When he finally locates his phone, he realises it was in fact an alarm set by his boyfriend to alert him when breakfast would be ready.

Several _happy birthday_ text notifications are listed across the screen from each of the boys––Zayn’s text including something along the lines of “ _I can’t believe you’re 65 already, time flies,_ ”––and from some of his uni friends who aren’t too occupied with Christmas Eve festivities, as is commonly the case. The last one, sent almost an hour ago, is from his mother, which he doesn’t open. He doesn’t even know why anymore.

He finds Harry in the kitchen switching off the stove, his hair up in a bun. When he turns around, the look in his eyes is worth the six years they spent trying to get here.

Harry practically throws himself onto him. Thing is, he loves hugs and he loves Louis and these two things combined result in Louis getting hugged so tightly he’s sure they’re morphing into one person.

“Happy birthday,” Harry sings into his ear, and then he kisses the side of Louis’ head. “I only celebrated one birthday with you when we were younger and I’m really disappointed about that so today’s going to have to be extra special.”

Louis smiles, cocking his head to the side. “I’m kind of alright just having you here.”

Harry shakes his head, his pouting face haloed by his hair that is literally glowing from the sunrise coming through the window behind him. “You’re sweet, but that isn’t going to cut it.”

Louis rolls his eyes and kisses Harry before he’s able to say anything more. Harry melts into it straight away, his body going limp against Louis’. They kiss until neither of them taste like anything except each other, and it’s slow and familiar and easy and Louis, for once, isn’t shadowed by _what if this is over tomorrow?_ Instead he thinks he could do this forever. And _that’s._ Um. That’s scary. Or exciting. Louis is finding it more and more difficult to differentiate between the two.

Then Harry’s lips start to trail down Louis’ neck, and he forgets what he was thinking about altogether.

He drags his mouth down Louis’ torso, until he’s on his knees in front of him.

“Happy birthday,” Harry says again, in a way Louis’ never heard those two words uttered before, as he tugs on Louis’ waistband, and Louis decides then and there that this is officially the best birthday ever.

. . .

They eat together at the table. Tea and toast and eggs and cold feet knocking together. Harry leaves to go get Louis’ birthday present, and returns with a post-it filled textbook that he sets on the table.

“Happy birthday to me?” Louis says, perplexed.

Harry laughs. “We had to do studies on certain injury-based cases this semester in my med class, so I’ve been doing a lot of research on sports related injuries and the stages of recovery. I don’t know, I thought maybe if I helped you, or did it with you or whatever. I thought you might want to start playing again. We could do some skill-building together, I have a whole folder of–“

Louis kisses Harry so hard he almost topples off of his chair. He kisses him frantic, then slowly, then lets his head fall to the side and presses his tongue in deeper, until he starts to lose his breath, and laugh and oh, god, he’s crying again.

“Shit,” Louis says, laughing wetly as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fucking shit. Why am I always crying?”

Harry giggles and kisses Louis’ forehead. “Raw human emotion is beautiful.”

Louis kisses him again, for good measure.

“This is really sweet, thank you. I can’t… believe you thought of doing that for me. But if you must know, Jay tried to get me to go to a clinic and I was an awful patient, so you might have your work cut out for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Harry says, smiling proudly. “Oh, and also,” he pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and slides it to Louis.

Louis looks at him, then opens the envelope, inside containing two train tickets to Doncaster. For today.

“What are these for?” Louis asks dumbly.

“Right, so. First of all, I’m totally not pressuring you to use them. I just thought, since we don’t have the cars and I wanted to see mum anyway because she’s able to go home for Christmas day, we could head over today and stop in somewhere where I know a bunch of girls will be wanting to see you.”

“You’re really thoughtful,” Louis says. He’s speaking softly, but he thinks Harry can still hear his voice break. “But what if Jay doesn’t want to see me? We’re really only taking Lottie’s word here, and you know teenage girls make up shit all the time–“

Harry grips his hands. “ _I’m_ telling you, she’ll want to see you,” he says, surely. “And if things get weird then we can just leave. I won’t make you stay.”

Louis nods. “Okay,” he breathes out. Thank you, for this and for… everything. All of it. You know.”

Harry frowns. “Excuse me, compliments are reserved for the birthday boy only.”

“You are legitimately going to kill me, Harry Styles.”

Harry smirks. “You’ve already killed me, like, ten times, so it’s only fair.”

They kiss like that, Louis still sitting on the dining chair and Harry leaning in between his legs, cupping his face in his hands. The last time he felt this good on his birthday was the first time he and Harry had celebrated his birthday together, when Louis’ family was still a family and he was still vaguely okay with the current state of his life.

He wants it back, so desperately, but he still feels like he’s going to reach out and grasp onto thin air.

. . .

The train ride to Doncaster mainly consists of Harry holding Louis’ hand extra tight so he doesn’t burst out of his seat every ten minutes, though thankfully there’s a lack of Christmas Eve commuters, so no one is around to witness Louis’ freak out. Just Harry, who does his best to distract him with funny pictures on his phone and cheek kisses.

Once they’ve grabbed their bags and left the station, they manage to find one of the few stores open on Christmas Eve and pick up some gifts for the girls as it would be rude enough turning up unannounced––possibly unwanted–– _and_ empty-handed. Though Louis doubts the twins will remember much about him anyway, since they were so young when he left. Harry frowns when he tells him this, and assures him it’s not possible to forget him.

They walk the long way to Jay’s house, like it would somehow feel easier if they take more time getting there. Yet, the closer they get, the tighter Louis’ hand grows around Harry’s.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry says softly.

“I just hate how nervous it makes me to be here now,” Louis says. “It shouldn’t feel like this, going home, and it’s my fault.”

“If you want to leave, then we’ll leave.”

“I just want to be okay. There’s always been this in my head making me feel like I don’t deserve to be okay, because I walked out on them like dad did. When she needed me. When my sisters needed–“ Louis cuts himself off with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand back in response. And with that small sense of ‘maybe I _can_ do this,’ Louis starts to walk towards the house where Jays car sits in the drive and small pink bikes are haphazardly left on the front lawn. In fact, he makes it an impressive two feet from the front door before he’s brought to a screeching halt again.

“Yeah, I can’t go in there,” Louis says in a panic.

“Lou–“

“No, Harry, you don’t understand. I don’t even know how to talk to her anymore. It’s been a whole year and nothing’s _fixed,_ nothing’s better between us. Space doesn’t help apparently, and there’s this new guy, and there’s you and I can’t–“

Harry brushes his hand over the side of Louis’ face. “Breathe, babe. It’s okay.”

“I waited too long,” Louis says pathetically.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters, trust me.”

Louis knows, logically, that Harry is right. The worst that could happen would be Jay taking one look at him and slamming the door in his face––and if that happens, they can just leave. And Louis can figure out another way to get past this. Though, he really, really hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“We can wait out here until you’re ready,” Harry says.

“We’ll never go in if that’s the case,” Louis says with a shrug. He hesitates, then lifts his hand to knock, anticipating everything that can go wrong. If his mother _does_ make it clear she wants nothing to do with him, at least… at least he’ll know for sure.

Except, the door opens and it’s not her, it’s Lottie, who appears to be in the middle of yelling something at one of the other siblings when the words catch in her throat.

“You came,” she says, breaking into a smile. She swings her arms around Louis and brings him into a hug. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

“Course I did, Lotts.”

“Harry birthday, Lou,” she says once she lets him go. “Mum’s gonna be so happy you’re here.”

Louis smiles sheepishly back.

“Hey Harry,” Lottie says, stepping past Louis. “Thanks for bring him.”

“Piece of cake,” Harry gestures nonchalantly and greets her with a hug as well.

“So can we…” Louis gestures towards the door.

“Lou, this is still your house. You don’t need to be invited in,” she squints at him. “Unless you’re vampires. But I’d be disappointed if you didn’t tell me _that_ earlier.”

“Unfortunately not,” Louis says, and steps inside.

“The twins are napping and Fiz just went upstairs to her room,” Lottie tells him. “Mum is in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Louis says, but his voice comes out in barely a whisper.

“All right?” Harry asks, once Lottie has disappeared into the living room. “Want me to wait out here?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “I’ll go bug Lottie. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, and then Harry is gone, and Louis is walking down the hall. The house is remarkably unchanged. More toys scattered along the floors and artwork on the walls, but the photographs of him are still up, which is a good sign.

When Louis presses open the kitchen door, Jay’s back is turned. She’s got a sink full of dishes in front of her and bubbles up to her elbows.

He freezes, then taps his knuckles against the door twice, lightly.

“Just a second,” she says, grabbing a towel to wipe her hands dry. Then she turns around.

He doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t say anything, she drops the towel from her hands, and brings a hand up over her mouth.

Before Louis knows what’s happening, he’s steeping over the threshold and hugging her. She grips him back just as tightly, and Louis doesn’t know what this moment is, if it’s happy or sad, but it feels significant nonetheless. He just breathes her in and tries not to think too much about everything else that’s hanging over their heads.

They separate and she’s looking like she might cry, and Louis is finally able to catch up to his thoughts. He has so much to say that he doesn’t know where to start, does he backtrack completely? Does he tell her about uni and Zayn? He has no clue where to begin.

Luckily, she beats him to it. “Look at you,” she says, sounding choked up. “You look like an adult.”

Louis lets out a wet laugh. “It hasn’t even been two years mum.”

“It’s been too long, far too long.”

“I-I’m sorry. I was, like, scared of…. Feeling like you felt when dad left. But I did anyway, and I was mad at you for that. I was _so_ mad–“

“Louis, hey, it’s okay,” she hugs him close again. “It’s okay, we can talk about that later. I’m just so happy you’re here, and for your birthday of all days.”

Louis wipes his eyes. “Harry got us train tickets– oh, Harry’s here by the way.”

Jay smiles. “I figured he would be.”

Louis gives her a questioning look, but she just squeezes his hand.

“Oh, Mark’s just out getting some groceries. He’ll be back soon. I’m so glad you’ll finally be able to meet him.”

Louis feels a reflex stab of defensiveness. “Yeah… me too.”

She smiles sympathetically at him. “I know it might be weird for you, and I want you to know this wasn’t a decision I made lightly.”

“I know.”

“Alright, well you should really get out of the kitchen while I make you a cake.”

Louis gapes, his heart stuttering. “You don’t have to.”

She shakes her head. “Shh, come on. I want to say hi to Harry.”

They walk back out into the living room to see Lottie and Harry critically analyzing one of the latest pop music videos. Harry’s head shoots up as soon as he spots them and he’s out of his seats and next to Louis, gazing at him to make sure he’s okay. Louis just smiles back.

“Mrs. Tomlinson, it’s so nice to see you again,” Harry says politely.

“Oh, call me Jay, Harry,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for coming with him. It means so much to me.”

Louis clears his throat. “We actually… we were here a little while ago to see Anne, she’s in hospital.”

Jay nods. “I know, we’ve been in touch. She told me you stopped in when she was asleep. It’s so nice to see you two are friends again.”

The word “friends” hangs in the air. Louis ignores it.

“So you’ve been checking in on her?” Harry asks after a moment.

“Almost every day. We were close when you two were attached at the hip, you know.”

Harry breathes out in relief. “Thank you for doing that, it’s good to know she has someone close by.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.”

Louis looks down. “I’m sorry we didn’t stop in and see you guys.”

Jay shakes her head. “It’s okay, Louis. I know why you didn’t come to see us.”

Louis’ heart pounds in a painful sort of way. “But I am sorry, not just for that but… I should have let it go and I didn’t.”

Louis notices Lottie has turned down the volume of the TV slightly, but jabbed her headphones in her ears.

Jay falters. “I shouldn’t have taken my own problems with your father out on you. It wasn’t fair of me when you were already hurting.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says with a small smile.

“How’s the leg?” Jay asks. “Back to normal?”

“I think––I think so.” Louis wobbles back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I might join a team when we get back, Harry’s helping me with that.”

Jay beams. “That’s really good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Now, I’m sure the girls will be desperate to see their big brother so I’ll let them update you on every single day that you’ve been away and I’ll get started on your birthday dinner.”

“I can give you a hand with that,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand once more and then standing up.

“Such a gentlemen, Harry,” Jay says, following him into the kitchen.

The next couple of hours that follow are met with Louis hesitantly knocking on Daisy and Phoebe’s door, actual squealing and tiny arms flung around his waist. He then gets a massive hug from the slightly older Fizzy, and is suckered into all kinds of activities with the three of them. Once they’ve tired themselves out, he takes the opportunity to head back downstairs where he chats with Lottie until he hears a key in the front door.

“Mark’s home, bro,” Lottie tells him.

Louis feels a fresh wave of nerves, and he’s on his feet just in time for Mark to set down the grocery bags and step into the room.

He sets the keys in the tray with a clink when he glances up at Louis, only just noticing him. Then a very wide, very _bright_ smile stretches across his face. “You must be Louis.”

Louis clears his throat, going for a handshake. “Yeah, hi–“ he is instead pulled into a hug that’s more comforting than it should be, given that this is the first time Louis’ met this man.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Mark says, and after releasing Louis, “You have no idea how much Jay talks about you.”

“He’s telling the truth, it’s a bit annoying actually,” Lottie adds from the couch.

“Shh, you,” Mark says with a grin. “And it’s your birthday too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“You’re not.”

“Good thing I cleared the grocery store out of whatever was left in the junk food aisles,” Mark says. “I hear you’re into bio? I taught your sisters bio class this year, I’d be down to give you a hand if you ever need.”

“Um––y-yeah.” Louis clears his throat again. “Thanks.”

Mark shrugs, like it’s nothing. That’s when Harry exits the kitchen.

“Oh, um,” Louis walks over to Harry. “This is my––Harry. This is Harry.”

Mark offers Harry the same warm greeting, he’s apparently quite the hugger, and then he brings the rest of the groceries into the kitchen. With that, Louis sinks into the couch letting out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for years.

“That wasn’t so bad, hm?” Harry says, leaning in close and running a gentle hand through Louis’ hair.

“Yeah,” Louis says, trying to hold his relief at bay. “It was alright.”

“I told you it would be,” Harry _and_ Lottie say at exactly the same time.

“Hey, I don’t need you _both_ ganging up on me,” Louis says, but he’s smiling.

. . .

During dinner, Mark asks both him and Harry about uni and Jay asks about Zayn. The entire family is crowded around the table and it doesn’t feel overwhelming or too much, it just feels normal – if not vaguely awkward, but those are things that will take time to fix. Louis thinks they actually have a chance to do that now.

Towards the end of the meal, after singing _Happy Birthday_ to Louis, Mark heaps up to his room to finish certain “Christmas related assignments,” while Lottie disinterestedly takes herself and her phone up to her room, Fiz following behind as her little shadow, and Harry entertains the younger girls in the living room.

“So what’s the verdict?” Jay asks, once they’re alone.

“Marks cool. I’m happy for you,” Louis says, collecting up the plates and passing them to her.

“Thank you. I really mean it, nothing felt right when you didn’t have an input in this. You’ll come to the wedding?”

Louis’ heart feels so full. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They tidy up together, chatting in small increments. All in all, it’s been a remarkably pleasant evening, better than Louis could have ever hoped.

A giggle comes from the living room, sounds like Daisy.

“It’s great having him here,” Jay says. “I’ll finish up in here if you want to tell the girls to go find Mark to put them to bed.”

“Sure,” Louis says. He walks back into the lounge, and the sight he’s met with causes his heart to stumble happily in his chest.

Harry is sitting on the couch with his hands out while Daisy and Phoebe paint his nails some horrendous colour (that still suits him, what the fuck) and he almost wants to cry again because this is all he could ask for. Of course, he’s already cried far too much for one day so he fights the urge.

Harry spots him standing in the doorway, his lips curving into a smile.

“Harry, keep your hand still,” Phoebe instructs him, serious and focused.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, apologetic for having his attention shifted and causing a slight movement in his hands.

Louis steps in closer and leans on the back of the couch. “Pink is definitely your colour.”

“Excuse me Louis, its _fuchsia,_ ” Harry says pointedly.

“My bad.” Louis pats Daisy’s hair. “Mum wants you girls to head upstairs and get Mark to tuck you into bed.”

The girls exchange scandalized looks. “But Harry’s nails aren’t finished!”

Louis chuckles and takes a seat down beside Harry. “I can finish them.”

“Okay, but you have to paint them twice or the colour won’t stay,” Phoebe demands, reluctantly handing Louis the nail polish.

“I will, I promise. Now hurry upstairs or Santa won’t be able to deliver your presents.”

The idea of that is apparently horrifying as the girls are racing up to their room seconds later, after a hurried “goodnight” to Harry and him.

Louis smiles after them, with a _what can you do?_ shrug. “Threats will get you everywhere.”

“They love you,” Harry says, trying to hide how much he’s beaming. “I mean, I knew they would but you were worried they’d forget… they haven’t, Lou.”

“I–I know, it’s good. It’s better than I expected.”

Harry leans down and kisses the side of Louis’ neck, sighing contentedly, as if he can feel Louis’ pulse pick up under his lips. “Now come on, I was promised a manicure.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” Louis smirks as he unscrews the bottle of nail polish.

He takes Harry’s hand in his and starts to apply the second coat, purposefully taking his time as it’s only just sunk in how quiet everything is. He makes sure to blow on each nail after painting, gently thumbing Harry’s knuckles and intently focused on what he’s doing, despite feeling Harry’s eyes on him the whole time.

When he finishes, he gets a q-tip and some nail polish remover to tidy around the edges, and he keeps Harry’s hands in his, in a moment that seems to pause for them. His skin is lit aglow, bathed in the different shades of colour from the Christmas lights, and so beautiful, _god,_ Louis is so amazed by every inch of him, he can’t believe it sometimes. His hand slides up to Harry’s wrist and – his pulse is racing. He’s _nervous._

“Hey, what’s up?” Louis asks, running his thumb over the soft skin of Harry’s forearm.

He meets Harry’s eyes and see’s everything shadowed there. His fears, his emotions, it hits Louis straight away, but not as much as the words that come out of Harry’s mouth. “Why didn’t you say we were together?”

“What?”

“Your mum and Mark… the term _friend_ floated around. You didn’t say––I mean, I just… I feel like you don’t want them to know or something.”

“I,” Louis swallows. “I’m sorry, Haz. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Some of the light dims in Harry’s eyes. He pushes a strand of hair out of his face and takes a deep breath. “I’m not here to be your secret anymore, Lou.”

Louis nods. “I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. I just––I didn’t _think_ –“ he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Harry sighs. “I still can’t read you sometimes. She’s so proud of you, you don’t need to be scared.”

Louis leans in and presses a lingering kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Before Harry can say more, Louis has darted towards the kitchen where Jay is sitting at the dining table reading a book.

“I have to say something,” Louis says bluntly.

She looks up, curious. “What is it?”

“And… and if you don’t approve or whatever then I’ll be out of your hair. And that’ll be it.”

She raises her brows. “Louis, you can tell me anything.”

Louis makes an indignant noise.

She sighs. “I’m sorry about how I treated you with your first boyfriend. I was upset with your father and I took it out on you. It was unfair, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Louis takes a deep breath, feeling like he just ran a marathon, and yet strangely empowered. “Harry’s my boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Jay smiles. “I’m your mother, I have a way with these things. I just figured you weren’t ready to tell me. And rightfully so, I haven’t been the most supportive.”

“He’s really important to me.”

She looks right into his eyes. “I don’t want you to think I ever had a problem with who you love. That’s never been the case.”

“I was mad at you for so long,” Louis says, staring fiercely through the wetness. “I blamed you for my life falling apart, I blamed you when I couldn’t tell Harry how I felt, and the whole time it was just me making excuses. It was easier to feel like I didn’t have to commit if I could blame my fears on someone else. But I can’t stay mad at you for dealing with things in your own way. We’re kind of the same, in that sense.”

“Love’s complicated, huh?” she says softly, and god why did she have to use that word? “I was never mad at you for leaving, just upset… but with myself more than anything. I knew you just needed the time to deal with it.”

“I want to be a part of your life again,” Louis says quietly.

“Good, I want you in it too,” she says, her voice empathetic and firm. Like she needs Louis to know how much she means each word. “I mean it, Louis.

Louis swallows once before nodding and wiping away his tears.

. . .

“Oh my God,” Harry says, taking one step into Louis’ old room. “It’s so _boy._ ”

“Fuck off, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like, I guess it doesn’t look too different from when you _were_ just a boy, when I was here last,” Harry says. “And there are so many sports posters, I can’t imagine Zayn liked it much.”

“Zayn slept in the living room, he found the lack of art and photographs in here insulting,” Louis grins. “And you know I put most of those posters up so I could check out the players.”

Harry hums like it all makes sense now. “I didn’t _think_ you supported the Bayern Munich team.”

Louis shrugs. “They’re hot.”

Harry grins and walks towards the bed. He shrugs off his shirt and shimmies out of his jeans, Louis follows, but keeps his t-shirt on because it’s far too cold, despite having his own personal boyfriend heater.

Harry lifts the blanket for him and switches off the light, Louis crawls under with him and tucks his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry doesn’t face away from him like he finds most comfortable every night, instead he lies on his back and rests his face on its side so he’s looking at Louis.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly. “I’m proud of you.” He nudges his face closer to Louis’, “Really, really proud.”

Louis sniffs a little and, in lieu of verbal response, tilts his head up to capture Harry’s mouth in a kiss. Harry hums into it, their mouths moving warm and slow, more as a sense of comfort than leading up to anything, but just as important.

Louis can’t imagine, if he were to see himself like this even a _year_ ago, that he’d be able to believe they’d actually be here. Harry, who he had so firmly brushed off as just another person who had broken his heart, has become this immensely important and validating part of Louis’ life. Again. It seems impossible to think they took years to get here. He can’t believe there was a time when he didn’t want him.

Harry turns on his side so Louis’ chest is flush against his back. Louis presses a kiss to the back of his neck and whispers, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lou,” Harry whispers back. “Happy birthday.”


	19. Chapter 19

It takes a few seconds in the morning for Louis to remember what year it is, considering his room hasn’t changed since he moved out. Then he feels Harry all tucked in his arms, and everything slots into place. A weird feeling settles in his stomach, at the enormity of how much things have changed now regarding his family situation. Maybe it’s the lack of guilt or internalised anger that he had been carrying, maybe it’s so drastic getting rid of it all in one day. Maybe it’s just too fucking early.

Then he hears distant squeals of young girls and recognizes the source of his early waking.

Louis rubs his eyes and slowly lets himself wake up. He really does just want to stay in bed with Harry, as per usual, but Christmas with so many young girls is often cause for disaster.

When he leans over his boyfriend, he notices he’s already awake and scrolling through Facebook on his phone. As if he had skillfully grabbed it from the bedside table without bothering Louis.

“How long have you been awake?” Louis asks.

“Like half an hour? I woke up when the first little Tomlinson sibling did.”

“Wow, I must’ve been exhausted.”

“It’s still pretty early actually,” Harry says, putting his phone down and leaning over to kiss Louis’ cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.” He threads his fingers through Louis’ hair. “Though, now that you’re awake, we should probably get up and give Mark and Jay a hand.”

“You’re every parents dream, you know that?” Louis grins as Harry climbs over him to get out of bed, then pulls him up.

They slip into more comfortable, weather appropriate clothes. Harry holds a hand up for Louis to wait and digs through one of his bags. He pulls out a rectangular shaped gift and hands it out to Louis. “Merry Christmas, Lou.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything. My birthday sort of leaves room for only one day of gift-giving.”

“Just open it.”

So Louis does. He knows it’s a photo-frame right away, but the picture inside something he didn’t expect. It was taken the year they spent Christmas together during high school, so it’s old and has some crease marks, but the faded festive colours paint across it as vivid as the memory plays in Louis’ head, though he can’t pinpoint the exact moment it was taken.

In the foreground is him and Harry, laughing about something by the fireplace, Louis can’t remember what was so funny but the smile creeps onto his face nonetheless. He doesn’t have a clue who took the photo, but it doesn't matter.

“Where did you get this?” Louis asks quietly.

“I always had it with me,” Harry says. “Kept it in my wallet for years because I have issues and didn’t want to get over you. I thought you should have it.”

“Thank you.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him into a hungry kiss, swaying a little. “Really, thank you. Am I incredibly vain for saying it’s beautiful if it’s a picture of me?”

Harry laughs. “Oh, extremely vain. You’re a terrible person. And you’re welcome.”

Louis grins and kisses Harry’s cheek. “Your gift is actually still at home. Zayn did the craftsmanship but it was my idea so technically from me.”

“You got Zayn to craft me something? That’s so sweet!”

“I got a bunch more of those sunset shells you like and had Zayn make one of those wind chime things with them. Because you’re weird and you like pretty things so I just… I thought… what?”

Harry’s looking at him with his head tilted to the side, his eyes soft and his mouth curved. He’s got some messy bedhair falling over his face. Louis wants to kiss him like crazy.

“I’m so in love with you,” Harry says, voice gravelly.

The significance sweeps through Louis until all he can do is nod. When they finally descend downstairs, the girls are rushing through pancakes, eagerly staring at the Christmas tree like the presents will disappear if they look away.

The gift-opening affairs pass in a colourful, loud, blur, while Jay turns on some old school festive tunes, the remains being a group of very happy young girls and Christmas wrapping distributed all over the living room. Louis throws Harry a candy cane while he helps tidy up, and then he accompanies Mark to the outside bin, lugging a bag full of rubbish.

“So I have a question, and you can stop me if I’m out of line,” Mark begins, shutting the bin lid behind them. “You two aren’t just friends, are you?”

Louis smiles bashfully. “No, we’re not. Did Jay tell you? It’s okay if she did, I didn’t ask her to keep it a secret.”

“She didn’t get a chance, what with it being Christmas and the little girls to worry about,” he says with a chuckle. “I just figured. You two are great together, he seems really nice.”

“He is.”

Mark nods, brushing his hair back with his hand. “I’m really happy we got to meet, Louis. I don’t expect you to treat me like your dad or anything, but if you did want to take some time later on to get to know each other better, I’d like that.”

Louis nods, “I’d really like that too.”

When Louis gets back inside and takes up residence next to Harry, he’s told to check his phone, where they’ve been added to a group chat with Niall, Zayn and Liam.

_Niall: merry xmas motherfuckers xxxx missing u all heaps (especially you Z)_

_Zayn: ^^^ miss you too. enjoy your paper-wasting materialistic holiday everyone [heart emoji]_

_Liam: MERRY CHRISTMAS. BLESSED TO HAVE MET YOU THREE THIS YEAR. CAN’T WAIT 2 SEE U GUYS AFTER NEW YEARS X_

Louis smiles and gets Harry to type out something loving and heartfelt from both of them and then they head back upstairs to get properly dressed this time, as going to see Harry’s family sends Louis into a whole new shock of nerves. Not to mention, Harry’s own stepdad who he’s never seemed overly fond of. Louis had honestly been avoiding the topic because it makes him really, really not want to go.

The plan is to be back in time for the annual Christmas parade tonight at seven, which gives them a good amount of time with Anne and Gemma, and if Harry wants to stay longer, then they will.

They inform Jay of what they’ll be doing and she lets them borrow the minivan, which is ideal because Louis wasn’t all too keen on the idea of catching public transport in the snow.

Once they arrive at Harry’s old house, Louis notices an extra car in the drive.

“Is that Chris’s car?” Louis asks.

Harry nods slowly. “Yeah. He’s… he’s okay. We’ve just never had a great father-son sort of relationship. So I’m sorry if it’s a little awkward.”

“Are you kidding? I thrive in awkward situations.”

Harry grins. He leans over the gearbox and kisses him slowly. “We could just stay here for a few minutes,” he says, and gracefully pulls himself over onto Louis’ lap, straddling him in between his legs, pressing kisses all around his throat.

Louis lets his head fall back and melts against Harry. “You’re completely procrastinating.”

Harry just shrugs, his nose nudging the underside of Louis’ jaw. Louis, reluctantly, tilts Harry’s face up and captures his lips in one last kiss before pulling away with a contended noise. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Harry sits there for a moment, rubbing circles over Louis’ shoulders. He straightens, smiling readily. “Yeah.”

. . .

Any nervousness Louis had felt around seeing his own mother for the first time in a while doesn’t seem to have passed on to Anne. Louis is completely at ease the minute he sees her, probably partly due to the surprise he feels at the sight of her improvement since he had seen her last, cooped up in a hospital bed months ago.

She’s got some medical equipment set up in the lounge, and greets Louis as if no time at all has passed. Harry’s grandparents are there too, and they hug Louis and give him a tin of hard candy, which Louis is surprised to discover elderly people actually do that in real life. The house is warm, and Harry takes him into the kitchen where Gemma and Chris are making a variety of dishes.

“Hey! You made it!” Gemma says, putting down a serving spoon to hug them both.

Chris, who’s a similar build to Mark, though slightly broader around the shoulders, is in the process of taking off oven mitts when they walk in. He turns to each of them with a welcoming smile. Louis feels Harry stiffen next to him, their hands slipping together, but the tension is manageable.

“Is this the Louis I’ve heard so much about?” Chris asks, in an unsure tone. Like he doesn’t know how to handle this situation as much as Louis.

Never mind that, Louis feels his heartbeat warm in his chest. Harry talks about him when he’s here? It feels nice. Validating. “Nice to meet you.”

“How’s the family? I’m sure it must have been a hectic Christmas morning,”

Louis laughs softly. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Glad you had some time to come see us, the last few times Harry visited, he mentioned his friend Louis over and over. It’s good to finally put a face to the name,” Chris says.

“Boyfriend, actually,” Louis says quickly. “I’m his boyfriend.”

He notices Gemma smirking as she watches the exchange. Good. It’s out there now.

“Oh! Well, even better,” Chris says with a friendly smile. “I’ll go set the table, Gems, can you bring the placemats?”

“Sure thing,” Gemma says, leaving the room.

Louis spins to Harry. “I thought you said he was a dick.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

Harry lets out a breath, relenting. “I said our relationship was complicated, but I… I guess with everything that’s happened with mum it’s gotten better.”

Louis stares at him.

“Harry.”

“Louis.”

“You gave me a really bad impression of the guy!” Louis says. “And you made me think he was homophobic! I was ready to start defending your honor.”

“Well, he could have been! We never exactly talked about it,” Harry says, defensively. “Besides, I think he’s still mad at me about the whole backpacking thing. I didn’t exactly ask anyone, just told him I was going and I left. It was a shit thing to do.”

“You met Niall though,” Louis consoles. “Things work out. He seems good now, you guys seem good.”

“I think we are, yeah.” Harry swings his arms around his shoulders, kisses the side of his forehead. “Are we actually getting our shit together, Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis grins, fingers pressing into Harry’s waist. “I think we are, Harry Styles.”

. . .

“Do you remember when you and Harry pretended to hate each other for years?” Gemma says across the table, smirking at them.

Louis blushes, focusing intently on his mashed potatoes. “I like that you used the word _pretend._ ”

“Well,” Anne says, smiling, “it was all quite silly, considering Harry’s little crush on you.”

_“Mum.”_

“Aw Harry,” Louis coo’s, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.

Gemma then gives the other family members the lowdown on the G-rated (and publicly known) version of their relationship, which Harry’s Grandma continues on a tangent of why love is so important. Louis still doesn’t know whether that word applies to him, but Harry squeezes his knee under the table, and he forgets why it matters.

A game of scrabble and a few hours later, and Chris eventually has to take the grandparents back to their home. Louis hugs them goodbye while Harry and Gemma walk them out, and Louis is left alone with Anne in the living room.

“Thank you for coming, Louis,” Anne says, her eyes watering almost. “It means the world to me that you’re taking care of him. I know he always seems like he can handle it but he’s incredibly stubborn, I worry sometimes that he’s getting too upset over me and not telling anyone.”

Louis swallows thickly. “I think maybe he used to, but he’s––he’s really happier now.” He clears his throat. “He just loves so deeply sometimes and like maybe he worries he can’t hold it all by himself. He makes a lot of people happier than he knows.”

“That’s very true,” Anne says with a smile, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek. “My condition is improving, but it’s going to be a long stretch, and I just want you to know how grateful I am that you’re with him.”

Louis nods, earnest. “Of course. I’d do anything for him.”

Anne smiles and brushes her hand along Louis’ arm, and it’s a small gesture, but it feels important. When the others come back inside, Anne says she’s going to have a rest so Louis and Harry hug her and say they’ll visit again before they head home after New Years. Chris helps her into her room and after a semi-awkward but still okay sort of hug. Gemma gives them each a kiss on the cheek and says she might bump into them at the parade.

They drive back to the Tomlinson residence, the mood in the minivan having elevated monumentally.

“We’re back,” Louis says, swinging open the door.

“Oh great, I was just about to call you,” Jay says from the living room where she’s putting coats on the girls. “How’s Anne doing?”

“Better, actually,” Harry says, helping her with Phoebes boots.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Jay says. “You know you could have stayed a while longer.”

“That’s fine, she was resting for the night anyway,” Harry says. He tugs Louis close by his belt loop. “Besides, it’s mine and Lou’s first Christmas together in six years.”

“Valid point,” Louis says, pointing at him.

“If you’re sure,” she checks, and Harry nods. “You can be in charge of carrying one of the food bags.”

Louis makes a skeptical face. “I’m not sure Harry can manage such a responsibility.”

“ _Hey,”_ Harry frowns, and dramatically turns to help pack the bags in the kitchen. Louis smirks and watches him leave.

He helps dress the girls in winter clothes, then heads upstairs to grab more layers for Harry and him. Once he’s back downstairs, he hands Harry another coat and loops a scarf around his neck.

“You know Liam will kill us if we get sick,” Louis says.

“ _Liam_ is the one that surfs during thunderstorms,” Harry points out.

“Louis!” Lottie calls from outside. “Come _on!_ ”

“I’m coming, jeez,” Louis calls back.

Harry slips on one of the snack-carrying backpacks. “Got the snack-pack.”

“Did you just… oh God. Come on.” He tugs Harry along by his hand, the winter sky darkening but his smile stays strong even when the cold air hits them.

. . .

The annual parade takes place down one of the more well-known streets, and it’s disgustingly over the top in it’s décor and music and floats, not to mention the amount of people that come down for it and line the streets. Zayn would absolutely hate it. He does, Louis later finds out after bombarding him on Snapchat.

“Don’t go too far, and text me or your brother if you need to find us, okay?” Jay says to Lottie, who has just begged to be let loose to find her friends. “We’ll be setting up camp down this end.”

“I know the rules, I’ll be safe,” Lottie says, before disappearing off into the crowd.

“You boys can go have a wander, Mark and I will be sorted with the kids,” Jay says to them with a smile.

“Thanks mum,” Louis says, smiling back.

He tugs Harry through the people, speakers on a float roll by playing some horrendous rendition of _Santa Claus is Coming to Town._ Everything is loud and colourful and nice because he’s with Harry. Somehow that makes it all better.

He slows down where the families are starting to thin out, and turns back to check on Harry, who is looking brighter than all of the lights here combined (and there are _a lot._ ) He also looks extremely kissable. That’s something Louis will need to take care of.

Louis is about to make good on that, when he feels himself bump into someone. He spins around, mumbling a “shit, I’m so sorry–“ but he cuts off mid sentence when he sees who it is, nearly choking on air.

Aiden stares back at him with a mirroring expression, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and a beanie loose on his head. Louis hasn’t seen him since they graduated high school––he hasn’t _spoken_ to him since Louis told him to politely fuck off and stop calling him, and to be honest, he looks pretty much the same. Maybe a bit more manicured, though not in the way Louis likes. Not even close.

Louis feels the urge to throw up right then, he doesn’t know why, probably the sudden surge of old insecure emotions and anxiety that gets brought up being in Aiden’s presence, coupled with the fact that he’s the source of everything that completely fucked up Louis’ relationships. Especially with Harry.

Aiden’s gaze switches over to Harry, who is standing stiffly by Louis’ side, and suddenly instead of vomiting or running away or hurting Aiden the way he had done to them, Louis just feels protective. He wraps his hand around Harry’s.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” Aiden finally says with an unreadable expression.

“Hey,” Louis says, holding his face in a neutral expression as well. “What’s up?”

He can feel Harry tensing, probably wondering why Louis is being so casual with the guy who essentially used and lied to Harry in the process of taking his virginity (a sexist social construct, according to Harry.) Not to mention, he cheated on Louis––all while Louis was still being dragged along as his secret that he seemed ashamed of more often than not. While Louis knows all about secret relationships, when he and Harry weren’t exclusive, it was never like that.

So yeah, the casual thing is really just an attempt to test the waters.

“My girlfriend dragged me here, total waste. Of course, I didn’t think I’d be bumping into _you._ ” He’s not smirking but he sounds like he’s smirking. It’s infuriating.

There’s just something about his tone that causes Louis to tighten his hand around Harry’s grip, and Aiden’s attention drops to the movement, the corner of his mouth quirking finally.

“No way,” Aiden says, leaving an unnecessary gap between each word. “You two? Last I heard, you hated each other.”

“Last I heard, you were into dick,” Harry quips, all but baring his teeth.

“Time is an amazing thing,” Aiden says with a serene sigh. He meets Louis’ eyes again, that fucking smirk sitting pretty on his face. “You look good.”

Harry steps forward now, dropping Louis’ hand. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t get to say that to him. Not after what you did.”

Aiden quirks a brow. “What I did with _you._ ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Aiden snickers humourlessly. “It was a compliment.”

Harry nods, pursing his lips. “Oh, I'm sure it was.”

Oh fuck, Louis is so, so, so enamored by this boy.

“Ah right, you two have a thing going on,” Aiden says, an annoyingly fake expression on his face. “I didn’t think it was very serious.”

Harry lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Actually, I’m not talking about that. I wonder if you even knew how much you didn’t deserve him.”

For a moment, Aiden looks taken back. For a moment. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t seem to think I was so bad at the time.”

Harry shrugs. “I thought a lot of stupid things back then. You weren’t special. And you didn’t deserve me either.”

Aiden raises his eyebrows slightly. “Always so sensitive, Harry,” he murmurs, before turning back to Louis. “So how ‘bout it?”

Louis’ forehead creases. “What?’

Aiden shrugs, smug and confident. “Pick up where we left off…”

Louis stares at him. “You have a _girlfriend,_ ” he says, as if he has to point that out. It’s not even the worst thing about that statement.

Aiden just blinks back at him. “So?”

Yep, Louis really dodged a bullet there.

He presses his hand to his forehead. “Oh my fucking God, you’re unbelievable.”

“Call me later,” Aiden tries, almost sounding desperate. “You still have my number, right?”

Louis huffs a laugh. “No, I don’t.” He pats Harry’s arm. “Come on, there’s no point sticking around here.”

They turn away from this pointless boy that Louis had been hanging onto for so long. It feels good to finally let it go.

“You know what? Fine,” Aiden says from behind them, one last-ditch effort.

Louis sighs and they stop walking, but Harry doesn’t turn all the way around. He stays with his eyes on Louis and says, “He’s not worth your time.”

Aiden keeps talking, and Louis doesn’t move.

“At least when we were over, I didn’t go through a phase of getting on my knees for anyone that’ll take me. Or is that still a thing with you? Please tell me, because I have such a hard time keeping up. You know, because there were were just _so many_. A little excessive actually, even for you, I’d have thought you had standards but… I suppose that isn’t the case,” Aiden finishes, a fake-sympathetic look on his face.

Louis’ chest sinks for the first time all night. “How do you–“

“Word gets around, babe,” Aiden says with a shrug, poisonous smirk on his face.

The next three things happen very quickly.

One, _Jingle Bell Rock_ starts to play from the speakers.

Two, fireworks shoot up into the sky.

And three, Harry spins around and clocks Aiden so hard in the mouth that he hits the pavement.

It happens so suddenly that Louis barely registers it, and Harry is grabbing his hand and they’re running back through the crowds. They quickly wade their way through families, all preoccupied with the lit up floats and fireworks, and when Louis’ face breaks into a grin, he knows he’s gone. He snorts a laugh, breathless from running and from everything that’s happened. Harry looks back at him with a wide smile on his face, and Louis pushes him along.

They’re a far enough distance away when snow starts to fall, flecks of it dusting over them and over the people, lights from the parade suddenly farther away and muted. He can feel his heart pressed up against his chest, vibrating with something he doesn’t know how to name. He doesn’t think it’s in any textbook he’s read, he doesn’t think there are words for it or any existing colour that can capture what it feels like. It throws sparks into the dry kindling that Louis has been trying so hard to fight, and at this point he doesn’t even know why.

They don’t stop running until the parade is just a distant echo and his cheeks hurt from laughing and his left hand is cold where it’s gripping onto Harry, the other tucked away in his pocket. They slow down when they’re walking along a fence line. Harry twists his hand out of Louis’ grip, turns and places it on his waist instead. With snow in his hair, he presses Louis against the fence and kisses him.

Louis doesn’t even flinch, his hands go straight for the back of Harry’s head, sinking into his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle, and he suddenly forgets everything he’s ever done or ever will do, because he can’t think of a reason why he would ever want to be doing anything other than this. Harry’s hands are pressing against him, beneath his jacket but over his shirt, his fingers are cold and his lips are cold and it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

Louis’ hand slides along the cut of Harry’s jaw, and Harry makes a small noise because Louis’ hands are probably colder than his, but he doesn’t stop or pull back, just kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until his hands are warm.

“My knuckles are killing me,” Harry says when they break apart. They both burst into laughter again, but Harry stays leaning against him. Sharing body warmth is top priority, clearly.

“You’ve got quite the swing, Harold. Who knew you had it in you?”

Harry bites his lip. “It’s not my first time.”

Louis arches a brow.

“A little pub brawl in Norway, Niall will tell you about it. I don’t really remember.” He shrugs, then gazes at Louis more serious. “Aiden had no right to say that to you.”

“I’ve already forgotten,” Louis says, looking right into his eyes so that he knows. Then he lets out a happy sigh. “This is the best Christmas ever. I mean, it already was, but then you punched Aiden and– oh my God, I have to tell Zayn!”

Harry giggles and kisses Louis’ smiling mouth. “Later,” and he tilts Louis’ chin up with his finger, pressing their lips together again, lingering against his this time.

When they pull away, Harry looks over Louis’ head and at whatever building is behind them.

“Holy shit,” Harry says. He steps back and Louis turns around too.

They’re standing in front of their old high school.

“Holy shit,” Louis agrees.

Harry nods towards it. “Shall we?”

Louis smiles, which apparently says it all. Harry uses an electricity box as a step, climbing over the fence. Louis follows closely behind. They’re stepping over the same broken concrete paving that’s been left in their memories and packed away and ignored.

The dark classrooms are the same and yet so much smaller. Louis feels like a giant. Or at least fifty years older than he actually is. He thinks about being seventeen and meeting Harry here, feeling like he could fit into Louis’ life so seamlessly, filling some sort of space that had been empty for too long, but Louis didn’t even notice how well he fit until after he was gone. And all of this, everything that’s happened since then that seems so twisted and wrong and yet so inexplicably right, it could be so messed up to anyone else on the outside, but it still just feels like him and Harry. And suddenly none of that other stuff matters, and everything makes sense.

He almost doesn’t notice Harry stop walking until he nearly bumps into him. He finally lets his eyes drift from where they were glued to Harry’s back, and they’re at the football pitch, where they had played too many games and fought over the captaincy and felt it all build up into something too strong and too much.

Louis has to pause for a moment to take it all in. His heart hurts from the disjointed fragments of memories swarming in his brain. He loves it here. He loves Harry.

Just like that, he feels a thousand bells chiming and a worlds worth of fireworks going off in his head and his heart. The cloak of everything he’s been carrying slips right off his shoulders.

He watches Harry set the bag down that they’d forgotten to leave with his sisters.

“Catch,” Harry throws him a juice box. They sit down on the bench. Louis sips on his drink, his Vans are soaked through. He is so, so in love. “Weird being here,” Harry says, tossing their empty juice boxes in the bin.

“Very weird,” Louis says, his heart caught in his throat. “Look at us, adults now.”

Harry huffs a laugh. “Not the word I’d pick.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Louis says with something he hopes passes as a laugh.

Harry knocks their elbows together and Louis thinks, _I love you._

He keeps his eyes on the part of the football field where it fades off into pitch black shadows, because well, when should he say it? There’s got to be a _moment,_ right? The chest-aching, time-stopping, world-changing sort of moment. They’re in the place for it, nostalgia in literally every speck of dirt, and yet he goes to open his mouth and nothing comes out.

“You all right?” Harry asks, just as Louis was about to almost say it again. “You’re quiet.”

Louis nods too many times. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he would say, and he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth he’ll say something that deserves a moment. Though, saying nothing and just staring at Harry is probably coming off a little strange.

Harry sighs, but he’s still smiling contentedly. “It’s okay to feel however you want to feel, Lou. I know people are shitty and parents fall in and out of love and it hurts and we’re scared to talk about it, but there are bits in there that are worth it. That makes those times where all we wanted to do was cry feel insignificant, like they’re not important because you can look at art and feel the rain and fall in love. You know?”

 _I love you,_ Louis thinks, but doesn’t say. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Harry continues, “Remember the first time we kissed? Like really, really kissed, and it was like… it was like waking up finally after being asleep for too long, or coming out from under deep water, or––fuck, I don’t know––learning how to _fly._ Louis, all I want to do when I’m near you is cram you into this space inside my chest and keep you there, and it’s so weird, and wonderful. These feelings are things that no amount of hurt or heartbreak can ruin, they belong to us.”

The entire world tips beneath them.

All Louis can hear is the beat of his heart, and maybe Harry’s too. Harry is looking back at him, the only lights being a few stray stars but it’s enough to cast long shadows across his face. Not one person has ever looked at Louis like that in his entire life, and none had even touched the same easy warmth that is always _always_ swimming in Harry’s gaze.

If Louis said it right now, it’d be a moment.

But then Harry’s face changes and he’s looking away. Louis watches his chance slip further and further out of reach.

Harry starts to zip up the backpack and slip it onto his shoulders. Louis feels his body tremble and his skin burn, thinking _this is what it is, this is what it feels like._

Harry stands up, and Louis stands with him. “It’s getting pretty late, we should–“

“I love you,” Louis says in one breath. Fuck moments.

Harry’s entire stance freezes for a solid five seconds. He looks at Louis, his eyes searching Louis’ face like he isn’t sure if he meant to say that.

“I love you, Harry,” Louis says a second time with more conviction, stressing each word because he needs Harry to know. He has to know. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Harry seems to snap out of something, and he shakes his head slowly. “Don’t be sorry.”

He looks dreamy and a little hazy. Louis bites his lip. “I should have said it ages ago. _Years_ ago. I would have still meant it. I’ve always been in love with you, I just needed to wait till now to figure out what it was.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods slowly, emotion in every part of his face. “I know, I know how it feels.”

“I love you,” Louis says again, quieter this time, like this is just for them to hear.

Harry brings his hands up to Louis’ shoulders, slowly closing the space between them. His eyes are soft and swimming with stars. “I love you.”

When they kiss, it’s timed almost perfectly with the snowfall. Harry laughs against him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and stumbling backwards a little. Louis’ fingers fit into Harry’s shirt, and he’s not cold at all, in fact, if his eyes were open he’d probably see the snow melting all around them.

They kiss for a long, long time, right up until they press against each other so hard that they topple over into the snow, still laughing all breathless and reaching for each others hands and not wanting to move ever.

He rolls over to lean on Harry’s chest, ignoring the ever-decreasing temperature. He stares down at him, smiling as the world freezes around them. Literally.

“Okay, _now_ we should really be going. Liam will actually kill us if we come back sick,” Harry says, smiling back at him. Louis falls in love with him again and again and again.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... there we go?? Still an epilogue to go, but this is concluding the main story arc. thank you thank you thank you for hanging in there with me, your comments have been lovely to read <3 i already have 50000 things i want to post, so i'll be around :)   
> epilogue will be some time next week. hit me up on [tumblr](https://thecoloursneverfade.tumblr.com)  
> xx


	20. Epilogue

**One Month Later**

_The Only Exception_ by Paramore

**

“Okay, no peaking,” Louis says for what has to be the tenth time.

Harry has his eyes firmly shut beneath the blindfold. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

He’s holding Louis’ hand, getting led towards his supposed birthday present. He’s been trying all day to guess what it is but Louis, the sneaky little shit, is far too good at keeping secrets, unlike Harry himself.

He woke this morning surprised to find Louis already out of bed, and in the kitchen actually _cooking_ breakfast. And not only was it actually edible, but it _tasted good_ too. Amazing.

What followed was the most mindblowing morning sex they’ve had––maybe not _ever,_ but it definitely ranked pretty high. It involved toys (Harry’s latest obsession. Started with a joke-Christmas gift from Nick, a gift card to one of the local adult stores, and Harry swears he wasn’t going to use it, but then he caught Louis on the website later that night and well, one thing led to another and suddenly his top draw is stocked full with neon) if he’s honest, it does add an interesting new dynamic to their sex life, and sometimes they take longer because they’re figuring out how to use certain things, and it’s _fun._ It should always be fun.

Afterwards they spent an inhumanly long time making out on the couch, because the other three were out so they didn’t have to worry about their level of decency. Not that they often do, anyway.

So ultimately, it’s been the best birthday ever, all things considered. Though, it doesn’t really take a lot for Harry to be happy when Louis is involved. He’s probably into him an unnatural amount, but, ah, life is short and – oh, Zayn would kill him – you only live once.

Harry did remain a level of suspicion when Louis was peering out the window and up at the sky every few minutes, frowning a little (adorably) whenever clouds would roll in. He also pushed Harry down on his back and tangled their mouths together whenever Harry would ask him about it, not that he was complaining in the slightest.

So when they heard a vehicle outside, and Louis outright _leapt_ over the couch to grab a blindfold and pull it over Harry’s head, he was a little concerned. Not really though, because it’s Louis, and he’d gladly jump off a cliff with his eyes open if Louis promised to catch him at the bottom.

At this point, all he can tell is that they’ve gone out the front door. He can hear a loud engine running, smell exhaust fumes in the air, and feel Louis squeezing his hand in excitement.

“Oh my God, did you buy me a monster truck?” Harry asks with fake enthusiasm. “Every little boys dream!”

Louis jabs him with his elbow. “Shut up. Take your blindfold off.”

So Harry does, and parked in their driveway is, in fact, the crappiest rental truck he’s ever seen. It’s got _Dave’s Automotive Rentals’_ faded logo on the side and it’s…

It’s a shitty rental truck. Oh.

That’s not what catches him off-guard though, it’s that, posing nonchalant on the back are Niall, Zayn and Liam, in fancy suits, admittedly looking like actual models. Harry is speechless. He absolutely adores these boys.

“Surprise!” Liam yells, breaking his pout-like-no-one-is-watching pose to jump off the back and hug Harry, in all his waist-coat and polished-shoes glory. “Happy birthday, H.”

“This is…” Harry looks at Louis over Liam’s shoulder. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” Louis says with a shrug. “Little hard to forget when you were so descriptive. Liam said you might cry if it’s not perfect.”

Liam lets Harry go. “Well it’s probably true. You cry about everything.”

Harry frowns. “Thanks Liam.”

“You do though! Last week when we were having lunch, you only had enough bread to feed one bird and you got really upset–“

“Is this Make Fun Of Over-Emotional Harry day?” Harry crosses his arms.

Liam smiles and kisses Harry on the cheek. “I do it because I love you.”

Niall is next to offer his affections, holding a hand to his heart. “Harry, my love, my oldest friend, my partner in crime, the Rose to my Jack, the Gabriella to my Troy, my one and only, my–“

“You’ve literally insulted everyone else here, but thank you,” Harry says, hugging Niall.

“Mm, yeah. The _oldest friend_ thing was a bit of a stretch considering I’ve known Liam since the days of VCR’s and bleached tips,” Niall says, stepping back from the hug. “Me and you did that retreat in Thailand though, so spiritually, we’re older friends.”

“Spiritually, I don’t give a fuck,” Liam says, unhappy. Niall punches him softly in the arm and mutters, “drama queen.”

“Happy birthday, mate,” Zayn says, one-armed hug, squeezing the side of his neck. “You like the painting?”

Zayn had left a painting in the living room, pink bow attached to the top of the canvas and a cutesy card detailing the work – a note above it stating: _only read if you really want to know. Self-interpretation can be more effective sometimes._ So Harry didn’t read it. But he thinks he got a pretty good idea, given that the title was actually one the texts he sent to Zayn a while back, before Louis had told him he loved him, before they even went on a date, where Zayn had said: _you know he’s going to freak out at some point. Fair warning. Hold onto him,_ and Harry had replied: _always will._

That’s the title of the painting that now sits in a prime place in the living room, where the afternoon sunrays hit perfectly and he can see it first thing in the morning when he comes downstairs.

“I love it. Thank you,” Harry says, smiling back, both about the painting and in admiration that Zayn is wearing an undone bow tie and suit with a slight blue shimmer in amongst the dark black shade. It does him wonders.

Harry is incredibly relieved that things worked out the way they did with the whole Manchester Situation. Not only because he gets to stay living with Louis, but because he’s sure if he did actually leave, Zayn would have hunted him down and destroyed him with just his glare. So despite things being better than ever between them, Harry really only narrowly avoided imminent death.

“C’mon, let’s get dressed,” Louis says, tugging Harry along by the hand.

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?” Harry asks, frowning at the thought of Louis changing out of his adorable sweater.

“It doesn’t fit your theme, Harold. I’m all for accuracy.”

In the end, Louis still lets Harry pick out the blazer he likes most, a maroon one, with a white shirt that he buttons himself, and Harry puts on a plain black suit with pin stripes running up the sides.

Back outside, the sky is threaded through in a swirl of grey-blue and orange, clear as ever. Harry can’t believe how lucky he is; his friends voices floating through the air, can’t believe how much he loves them, and then there’s his boyfriend who literally looks like a prince. Suddenly, lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Let’s get this baby on the road,” Liam says, and Zayn snorts.

They file in, Liam driving, Niall battling with the ancient radio that only picks up one frequency, Zayn gets in the back and Louis holds open the door for Harry. “After you.”

Harry smiles and places a quick peck to Louis’ lips. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Louis says back, smiling the same.

“Yeah, yeah, we all love each other. Now hurry up,” Zayn says from inside the truck, and all Harry can do is laugh as Louis gets in with him, shutting the door behind them.

. . .

Doncaster is beautiful at night, Harry had always thought so, but he’s never seen it look quite like this. The lights glow over a sea of black, glittering like the stars above them, and the air is cool is but not too cold. The hill they’re on overlooks everything. There are a few empty beer bottles scattered about and the truck is letting out grey fumes. It’s honestly perfect.

“Not gonna lie, I see why kids come up here to make out,” Louis says, kicking one of the crushed cans in the gravel.

Harry flicks a text to Anne: _we’ll stay at the house tonight. See you tomorrow xx_

He’s been able to see her more and more over the past month, though she’s told him not to worry, that she’s getting better and will update him if things get bad again, but he’s… well, he’s been sentimental as of late. He has a lot of love to give and a lot of people to give it to. Not to mention, Louis’ been back twice in one month to visit his family. He still doesn’t think it’s enough, but he also doesn’t understand how much progress he’s already made, so Harry just waits until he’s finished complaining about himself, and then he kisses him and tells him he’s wonderful until he gives in and believes him.

Liam lays out a blanket over the cab of the truck and they all hop on, Zayn next to him, making room for Niall, then Harry, and Louis following behind, always there, and he presses up next to him and kisses his cheek. “This good?”

Harry intertwines their fingers. “Perfect.”

“Ah, but the night is still young, my love,” Louis says and, seemingly out of nowhere, he has a bottle of red wine and some glasses, which he skilfully pours for each of them.

“You are truly incredible,” Harry says, actual stars in his eyes.

“I told you, _accuracy._ You said this is what you wanted, who am I to not at least _try_ to make it perfect?”

Harry raises his brows. “In that case, next year, I say we lose the suits–“

“It seems you two have forgotten there are other humans here with you,” Liam interrupts.

Louis shrugs, not looking away from Harry. “It’s called Make Out Point for a reason.”

“It’s not called Make Out Point.”

“Well, it should be.”

Harry smiles, swallowing down his glass, he leans forward to look over at Niall and Zayn. “Have you guys almost finished packing?”

“Nearly,” Niall says. “It’s kind of hard to pack your life up into one year while still remaining travel-friendly.”

“And factoring in that there will be shopping involved,” Zayn adds.

“Why? Can’t wait to get rid of us?” Niall asks, smirking.

“Oh, totally. Already got some tenants waiting to rent out your room.”

“Ouch. Wound me.”

“Careful, Ni, Harry might knock you out,” Zayn jibes gently, breaking off into laughter.

Harry rolls his eyes, and Louis comes to his defence with, “Hey. Don’t make light of the best moment of my life.”

“I have to commend you, Harry, I wish I had done it,” Zayn says. “Did he cry? I hope he cried.”

“Didn’t stick around to find out,” Harry says, feeling Louis beaming at him. “Also, don’t go spreading that around. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a violent person.”

“Unless they disrespect your boyfriend, right?” Niall chimes in.

Harry nods once. “Precisely.”

. . .

“Hey, now that Zayn’s leaving with Niall, what are you guys doing about your flat? I mean, living together has become a thing. No point paying that extra rent, right?” Liam asks, having shifted from his spot beside Zayn to lying on his back at the end of the cab, empty wine glass beside him.

Harry glances at Louis, who’s looking back at him curiously. They haven’t really, properly discussed their living arrangements. It’s the one thing, really, that hasn’t been talked about. Harry blames that on the first few days home after New Years being slightly tentative, as in, not wanting to rush Louis into making more commitments after he’s already given so much. It’s not like Louis’ ever said he doesn’t want to officially move in with them, but Harry just figured it would come up eventually, as they have, thought not officially, been living together for months.

“Did I… was I not meant to ask that?” Liam sinks back slightly, unsure.

“No, it’s okay,” Louis reassures. “We just haven’t, um…”

“I figured you’d say something when you were ready,” Harry says. “Didn’t want to rush you.”

“I was waiting for you to ask, actually.” Louis breaks into a smile. “Didn’t want to just force myself in there.”

“Oh Lou, you know I want you there,” Harry says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thought it was obvious. I’m surprised you don’t ask me to leave you alone, sometimes.”

Louis looks… relieved? Almost? Harry can’t imagine why he wouldn’t have expected that sort of response. “Oh… okay. Okay cool.”

“So that’s sorted?” Liam asks, still profoundly worried. “I didn’t just potentially ruin your guys’ relationship?”

“Not ruined.”

“Thank God.”

“So we’re getting rid of the flat then, Lou?” Zayn asks.

“I guess, yeah,” Louis says. “We still have two months left on the deposit so after that, we’ll just move everything over. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with your shit.”

“Labelling it as _shit_ implies lack of care.”

“What will you care? You’ll be off in Copenhagen or Prague becoming one with the locals, painting alongside canals and whatnot. Eating baguettes,” he says with a shrug. Then turns to Harry. “Will I make a good tourist?”

“Absolutely. The best.”

They stay there for ages, talking about nothing, and sometimes things that are important, and it all feels like it means something. In the cool air at the top of the hill, and in a wine-induced weightlessness, Harry feels like nothing can hurt them. He’s being silly and over-sentimental again, but it’s there, in his brain. So that’s a thing.

When it all starts to get too cold, and enough time has passed for Liam to be their respective sober driver, they all start to hop off the back and back into the truck.

Before Harry hops in though, he clasps Louis’ hand in his tightly and, against the truck, he pulls him in, leans back and tugs him closer. Their lips connect, gentle but yearning, because right now, with Louis looking like that against the city and the stars, it’s all he can think to do.

Louis pulls back a little to press their foreheads together. Harry can feel his warm breath on his face, and it makes him smile.

“Thank you for moving in with me,” Harry says, earning a giggle from Louis. “And for tonight, and, you know, just being with me in general. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Louis brushes back a strand of Harry’s hair. “It’s not like I’m doing it as a favour. I’m doing it because I love you a stupid amount, and being nice to you is sort of a thing that comes with that.”

“Love you too,” Harry says back with a smirk, kissing him again, slow and lingering.

“Did you have a nice night?” Louis asks earnestly. “If not, I’ll make up for it with a lap dance. Though, I’ve never done one before so I might need some guidance.”

Harry can’t really stop himself from smiling now. “Tonight was perfect. But I do still require that lap dance. Birthday wish.”

Louis kisses his cheek. “Well, I can’t deny you your birthday wish. Though, we’re staying at your old house so unless you don’t mind it happening in your childhood bedroom.”

“Surprisingly, I have no objections.”

“Best not make you wait then,” Louis says, smirking devilishly as he turns and heads into the truck. When Harry’s heart starts beating again, he follows him in.

. . .

 **“** _And the stuff in those boxes in my closet – be careful with them!”_ Zayn shouts over the line. He’s on speakerphone to Louis, who’s sitting next to Harry on floor of the patio while they take a break from moving boxes across the yards. It’s nearing the end of Spring, so the sun is out in full force and Harry personally blames Liam for electing this as their moving day. Everyone is shirtless and sweaty. If Harry weren’t melting, he’d be taking some time to fully appreciate the sights.

“Where are you exactly?” Louis asks, in all his shirtless glory.

“ _Madrid,”_ Zayn replies. _“Niall’s just getting shit ready for tonight’s show and then we’re hitting the shops.”_

Louis rolls his shoulders back against the wall to get more comfortable. Harry shamelessly watches the subtle movements in his abs. He’s practically salivating, so, so fucking obsessed. “And you’re bugging me, why?”

“ _Because you posted on Facebook that it’s moving day so people would come and help you guys with it. I need to make sure everything is being cared for.”_

Louis laughs. “I can promise you everything is getting the utmost care. Jade’s here. She won’t let anything happen to your precious things.”

“I won’t either Zayn,” Harry adds in.

“ _You’re too close to him, Harry, can’t be trusted,”_ Zayn says. “ _You’ve fornicated with the enemy.”_

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

Louis’ smirking now, he reaches a hand out and slides his palm flat over Harry’s pecs, down, _down_ until it’s resting comfortably on his thigh. It may be the heat that’s driving Harry mad, but he immediately feels locked under a spell, rendered completely useless to the world for the next few hours.

“Zayn, go have fun, everything is fine,” Louis says calmly.

“ _I swear to God, Louis, if–_ “

“What? What’s that? I think you’re breaking up.”

“ _Louis–“_

“I––suppose I’ll call you back later. Bye Za–“

Louis ends the call, grinning in self-satisfaction.

“You’re evil,” Harry says, nudging their hot skin together.

Louis shrugs. “This is the man you chose to love. Take me or leave me.” His phone buzzes again. He snickers and holds it up for Harry. A Snapchat from Zayn, he’s frowning and flipping them off, it’s all very amusing.

“Not that I don’t love you both dearly,” Liam says, stepping out of the house, carrying a box. Also shirtless. “But don’t you think your _break_ has been going on long enough? It’s been like, an hour.”

“I’m just enjoying the view,” Louis says, smirking as his eyes drop to Liam’s chest.

Liam visibly blushes. “Shut up. It’s hot.”

Harry nods, his voice full of suggestion. “Yes. Yes it is.”

Liam gives them a dead look, before awkwardly darting off next door.

“That got rid of him,” Louis says proudly.

“Alright, come on,” Harry says, getting to his feet and reaching his arms out, his torso is bare and warm against the sun. “He’s right, we have been sitting here for an hour.”

Louis pouts, looking like a child. Harry rolls his eyes and makes grabby hands until Louis lets him be pulled up, still frowning. It’s so fucking beyond adorable that Harry kisses him as soon as he’s on his feet.

“I can make you feel uncomfortable too,” Louis says. “Don’t think I have that all saved for Liam. Look at you.” Louis grabs onto Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. “You’re practically naked.”

Harry laughs, twisting their hands together, his fingers just sliding up enough to reach Louis’ rope tattoo around his wrist that he got two weeks ago to compliment Harry’s anchor. (Zayn mocked them for being cliché, as he later posted a picture of him and Niall kissing with the Eiffel Tower in the background. His hipster cred was effectively ruined after that. )

“Don’t for a second think I’m doing any heavy lifting,” Louis says, swatting Harry away unsuccessfully.

Harry presses a teasing kiss to Louis’ jaw. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

“Thank you guys so much for helping out,” Harry says to Jade, Nick and Ed as they leave out the front door, waving goodbye.

Closing the door, it feels surreal somehow that he’s finally living with Louis. It’s silly, because they’ve definitely been living together long enough. Now it just feels more solidified and final. There’s no going back.

Liam is passed out the couch, so Harry maneuvers over and around boxes and upstairs to his room. _Their_ room. There’s not a lot of change in there, considering most of Louis’ things had appeared in amongst Harry’s long before anything had been made official with them.

Louis is sprawled on his back, still shirtless. His skin is smooth and golden from the setting sun flooding through the windows. Harry’s surprised he lasts so long standing there before he’s crawling onto Louis and burying his nose in the crook of his neck. His skin smells salty from moving in the heat, and it’s hypnotizing, a thrill buzzing in Harry’s skin and causing him to shiver.

“Hey, roomie,” Louis says, vibrant eyes sparking with warmth when they land on Harry’s. “Don’t we need to like, christen the place before it truly becomes home?”

Harry snorts. “I think it’s been plenty christened, Lou. But we can pretend.”

Louis cups Harry’s face with his hands and kisses him hungrily, his tongue nudging Harry’s mouth until it opens easily. His lips are keen and warm, like always, pulling him in just to taste more of him. Harry deepens the kiss, nudging himself impossibly closer to Louis, until their already sticky skin is pressed together and the thought of ever moving apart seems impossible.

Harry ducks his head down, fingers digging into Louis’ skin as he sucks a hard kiss just below his jawline. It earns him a small gasp from Louis, the sound shooting heat down Harry’s spine, and it’s too late before he realizes he’s rolling his hips against Louis, as Louis is arching his up, because it’s already happening.

Harry wants him like this always, dragging out small sounds of pleasure as the fabric of their jeans brush together. His mouth is hot when he places another sucking kiss on Louis’, panting softly against each other, tasting salty and sweet. Harry’s unsteady hands fumble with Louis’ waistband, because it’s the only thing he can do to ease his spinning mind. Anticipation grows in low moans when Louis’ nails dig into Harry’s back, then he stops.

“Wait, fuck,” Louis says, his hands slide to Harry’s shoulders, both breathing like they’d just run a marathon. Harry swallows tightly and looks down at Louis with a questioning gaze. “I told Liam we wouldn’t have sex until after we went out for drinks tonight. Didn’t want to be more worn out than we already are.”

“Liam’s asleep on the couch though – also, what kind of conversation were you having?”

Louis laughs, placing a soft kiss to Harry’s neck. “I’ll go wake him up. We still need to shower.”

Harry makes a displeased noise, flopping back on the bed, his body going slack. “This is incredibly disappointing. What good are you here if not for the soul purpose of making me come?”

Louis snickers, pushing himself up on the bed. “Might have to take matters into your own hands, in the most literal sense.”

Harry sighs and leans in, kissing the tip of Louis’ nose. “You’re the worst.”

Louis rolls his eyes, his voice a mix of sultry and proper. “If you’re good, I’ll blow you in the shower.”

Harry’s eyes light up at that, and Louis shakes his head, smiling. Harry wonders if Louis knows his smiles are part of the reason Harry gets up in the morning. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take for him to be able to look at Louis and not feel like his heart is going to explode all over the place.

He still remembers how he felt, that night that he asked Louis to drive him to see Anne when she went back into hospital. That was one of the more difficult times in their relationship, Harry hated pushing him away like that but at the time, it felt like the only way to make it all hurt less. He felt so stupid for kissing Louis like that at Niall's party, so unbelievably stupid, and not because it felt wrong to do it, but because he always thought that if he did kiss Louis, it would mean more than a drunken snog at a party.

Seeing the look on Louis’ face afterwards, he knew he had fucked it all up completely. He really believed Louis didn’t want him like that, and he had to let it go.

So asking Louis to take him was honestly his last resort, because all of his friends were drunk and he wasn’t in a state to drive himself. He didn’t think Louis would even want to take him, maybe he wouldn’t have had it not been for the look on Harry’s face. It was just. It was all so messy. Harry wanted to feel like he meant something to Louis, but he picked a guy that was impossible to read. Louis tells him now that Harry was silly for thinking that, but it was pretty easy to make that mistake, considering the facts.

He never expected Louis to actually come into the hospital after him. Part of him didn’t want Louis to see him like that, but for the most part, he was so, _so_ relieved that he followed. That morning, when they kissed again, properly this time –– it was the first time Harry wanted to tell Louis he loved him, but the moment felt too soon, and he didn’t want to risk scaring Louis away again, so he didn’t. It seemed like such a difficult stretch, trying to show Louis how much he loved him without explicitly saying it for so long, especially with Louis always feeling so low and so guarded. It hurt him to see.

Until Christmas of course, and they’ve been enjoying being so heedlessly in love so much that they almost feel like new people. Especially Louis. He’s so happy, with himself, his family, their relationship––he’s not weighed down like he used to be.

Like when their relationship was purely physical, Harry could tell Louis just wanted a distraction most of the time, and he didn’t know why for so long, but while they hated each other, he just thought it was because he was holding onto his anger at Harry for what he did, and with Louis being so guarded it did drive Harry to think that maybe he didn’t have feelings for him at all. Maybe it was all just sex to him.

It’s an understatement to say that Louis confused the hell out of Harry, and that the way he made him feel terrified him to no end because he didn’t think he could ever go there with Louis again. Now, though, being with Louis just makes all the bad stuff melt away. It’s good. It’s so, so, so good.

Not to mention, it makes Harry’s insides swim happily, seeing Louis smile so often, and to know that he has someone there for him in those other moments.

“I love you,” Harry says quietly, the words meant for Louis only. His throat is tight suddenly, aching with emotion.

“Love you,” Louis says back, looking at him like he’s the only one who can ever know what it feels like.

They look at each other for a moment, smiling for no real reason. Harry admires so much about Louis, every curve of his body, the shape his lips, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Even the colour of his eyes, a shade of blue so specific and definitely, without a doubt, Harry’s favourite.

It makes every silly, stupid, ridiculous thing that’s happened between them feel like it was meant to. It feels right.

. . .

Jay’s wedding is a month after the move, where the weather is really getting into summer. The venue is gorgeous, flowers along the seating and a live band under a fairy-light strung tent. The ceremony is lovely, Phoebe and Daisy drop flowers along the aisle, Jay looks like an actual Goddess and Louis looks ethereal, little to Harry’s surprise.

They’ve had to split up at the reception so that Louis could go say hi to some of his relatives, he apparently hasn’t seen these people in even longer than the time he was away from his immediate family. Harry’s had to reassure Louis that he’s completely fine to be left on his own, and he’s spent his time mingling with guests and trying to work out how they’re related to Louis. He’s absolutely bursting with pride whenever one of them says how nice it is to see Louis after all this time, or how great he’s looking, and it just about takes Harry’s breath away to say he’s his boyfriend. But he still does. Probably far too many times, but hey, he’s proud, and he has to make up for lost time.

. . .

_Harry: I told Lou’s cousin you’re my Single & Ready To Mingle friend bc she was hitting on me and I didn’t want to completely turn her down_

_Harry: so u might have a date_

_Zayn: why_

_Zayn: why me_

_Harry: your photo was the first one I could find on my phone_

_Harry: oh, I showed her a photo of you btw_

_Zayn: thanks for that_

_Zayn: did u also tell her I’m in another country_

_Zayn: and have a boyfriend_

_Harry: I might have left out some details_

_Harry: I had to get away and didn’t want to leave her feeling awkward_

_Zayn: I’m not going on a date with Louis’ cousin_

_Zayn: I’ve probably met her before_

_Zayn: Harry._

_Zayn: Harry._

_Harry: love u Zayn_

_Zayn: I’m in ANOTHER COUNTRY_

_Harry: she’ll wait for you_

_Zayn: if she remembers in a year then fine, I’ll go on this not-date. Changing the subject, how’s the wedding?? Lou sent me some pictures. I assume you’re on your own given the cousin flirting with you thing._

_Harry: I’m having a lovely time. Lou has a v nice family. Also he’s in this suit, and it’s like wow. Kind of want to ravish him in the supply closet later._

_Harry: was that too much information_

_Zayn: just a tad_

_Zayn: but I’m happy for you <3_

_Zayn: Niall says hi. Just finished a show. He’s all hot and sticky and I’m kinda really into it. Like really, really into it_

_Harry: are we sexting_

_Zayn: what. no._

_Zayn: maybe??_

_Harry: oh my god did I just cheat on Lou??_

_Zayn: you’re bored aren’t you? idiot, go find your boy_

_Harry: haha ok thanks for keeping my hands busy_

_Harry: oh_

_Harry: ;)_

_Zayn: don’t do that._

_. . ._

Harry eventually finds Louis as the focus of a few guests attention, of course, and when Louis catches sight of him, he stops talking mid-sentence, and it’ll take Harry a few hours to get over the look on his face. Louis politely smiles to his cousins and excuses himself, walking straight over to Harry.

“So I hear you’ve been charming the pants off of my family?” Louis says wryly, hooking their arms together.

“Unintentional, I swear,” Harry says into his ear.

“I know, I know, it’s impossible for you to have a conversation with someone and not have them begging you to have their babies afterwards. Oh, do I ever.”

“You’re exaggerating a bit.”

“My cousin Cassie said _oh he’s just so pretty, I could just die!_ So you should maybe tone down your face and such, you know, for the sake of dear Cassie’s wellbeing.”

“I’ll try my best,” Harry says, ruffling his hair a bit, but Louis just frowns.

“How is that you look even better now? Fuck you, Harry. Honestly.”

Harry giggles. “I’m sorry.”

Louis shakes his head, smiling to himself. “Do you want to dance?”

“You mean slow dance at a wedding where the unmarried couples talk about their feelings and _T_ _he Future_? Yeah, okay.”

He lets Louis tug him onto the floor where couples are swaying gently in each others arms to the music, and it feels nice, when Louis’ arms drape around Harry’s neck, and Harry settles his hands on Louis’ waist. Harry has only had a couple of glasses of wine, but he’s going haze from their closeness alone. He just wants to soak him all in.

He draws him closer, chests almost pressed together, swaying in small circles while the rest of it fades out. Harry decides he wants him this close forever.

Louis leans back a little. Their gazes meet, and Harry searches Louis’ face with his eyes, his heart stuttering when Louis gently brushes his hand to the side of his face. Quietly, he says, “Beautiful.”

Harry breathes out, “What?”

Louis flushes, smiling bashfully. “You um, you look beautiful.”

Harry feels his heart spilling out his chest. “So do you. Obviously.” He presses his lips to Louis’ forehead. “I feel good about this.”

“Well yeah, my family loves you, half my cousins are _in_ love with you, we share the same best friends, and we live together, what could possibly go wrong?”

“Why does something have to go wrong? We’re in love, we’re happy, let’s just _be_ that and not worry about anything else.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m not worried. Honestly, I’m not. You’re legitimately my favourite human so as long as you don’t die in a fiery inferno, I think I’ll be alright.”

“But a regular death lacking in fire might affect you?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Louis says with a grin. “But it’s just weird. It’s a good weird, sure, but knowing that I could see myself spending the entire rest of my life with you is… weird.”

Harry smiles knowingly. “Is the wedding making you think about things?”

“No. Maybe.” Louis gives Harry a dead look when he sees him smirking. “What? I can be sentimental! It’s not unheard of. Weddings are nice and you’re… nice. I love you. It’s what people in relationships tend to think about, right?”

Harry loves watching Louis grow all dramatic and defensive, it shouldn’t be as endearing as it is, yet he always finds himself grinning like a maniac, which only ever seems to enrage Louis further. “Yeah, sure, I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I’m happy you are.”

Louis’ expression softens. He’s biting his lip, all cute and nervous and clearly deep in thought. “What we have was never nothing, I want you to know. I know I said some shit like that before, about us being nothing, but I was just being a dick. And it’s never going to be nothing, either.”

Harry nods slowly. “I know.”

Louis rests his head back against Harry’s shoulder. “I want this to last, I guess is what I’m trying to say. If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want.”

“Unless one of us dies in a fiery inferno,” Louis points out.

“Then there’s always Nick,” Harry shrugs easily.

Louis squints at him. “Whoa, I was just joking and you took it too far.”

Harry giggles and hugs Louis closer to him as they sway slowly. Once the song has finished, Louis takes his hand and leads him outside. The summer air is warm, sun long since set at the edge of the horizon along the vineyard. They sit on a bench, under the stars and over looking the venue. It’s difficult to see in the dark, but still beautiful.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks Louis, who was staring off into space. He reaches over and tangles their fingers.

The shade of blue in Louis’ eyes glitters in the light as he looks at Harry. It’s mesmerising. “I don’t know, I just… I never thought…” Louis trails off. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“No, tell me,” Harry presses. “Lou.”

“I just... When we stopped being in each others lives, I always wondered if you had found someone new in that time––and I know there were guys. But. I guess, I always thought you’d have fallen in love with someone else. It made me feel sick to think I had missed my chance. Sorta kept me up at night.”

It’s when Louis says stuff like this that Harry remembers how very little healthy relationships Louis has been in, if any of the previous ones can even be counted. It hurts more than he’d care to admit when Louis gets into a self-deprecating sort of mood. Luckily, he doesn’t stay there long.

Harry brushes his fingertips over the back of Louis’ hand, “Never felt the same about anyone like I do with you.”

Louis doesn’t seem convinced, the corner of his mouth quirks down a little. “It sucked to think about you being happy with someone else – which, I know is awful and selfish, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. And I told myself it was because I fucking hated you and hated the idea of you being happy, but that wasn’t true. So like, trying to get over you was the worst because I already thought I was.”

“You have no idea how much I wished I could have gotten over you,” Harry responds, his throat tight. “I’m actually glad Liam asked about you and Zayn on that first day because I totally thought you two were together. Zayn is terrifying, so that scared the shit out of me. This is kind of embarrassing but, after you talked to me that first time, I sat in my room trying to come up with a way that I could cope with living next to you and your potential boyfriend for the next three years. I was considering moving, to be honest. I almost didn’t go back downstairs because I couldn’t handle it. Who’s dramatic now?”

Louis laughs softly, holding Harry’s hand tighter. “If Zayn had been my boyfriend, trust me, you’d have known. I’d have gone to the effort to rub it in your face, because I’m a dick.”

Harry giggles and crosses the space between them to kiss the side of Louis’ head.

“That’s when you say I _was_ a dick. Harry. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I can’t lie to you,” Harry responds, shrugging.

Louis’ mouth forms a hard line. “Oh thanks, feeling the love.”

Harry grins and dips his head to press kisses to the underside of Louis’ chin, flicking his tongue along his throat and down to the bit of exposed collarbones where his shirt isn’t buttoned.

“You look very good in this suit, by the way,” Harry says, leaning in close. “Though, better with it off, sure.”

Louis smirks and presses his tongue deeper into Harry’s mouth, the kiss unhurried and perfect. “I’d take it off right now but I’m afraid I don’t like our chances of one of my family members seeing my dick.”

Harry frowns indignantly. “Back in the day, people didn’t even wear clothes. What have we become?”

He can feel Louis’ laugh against his mouth. “I promise you, we can have all the clothes-less fun when we get back home.”

Harry sighs. “I guess that’ll have to do. I’m blowing you in the bathroom before we leave though.”

Louis visibly swallows. “I suppose I can deal with that.”

Harry breathes against him, hands still linked, and he can see every inch of bubbly happiness gleaming through Louis in his shining gaze. Harry’s mind is a little dazed, if he’s honest, so when Louis speaks, he almost misses what he says.

“Weddings are nice,” Louis says in a more subdued tone. “This was a nice wedding.”

“It was,” Harry agrees. “Proposals are overrated though. The whole gendered thing in girl-guy relationships. No to mention big displays and flash mobs. I’d be so weirded out if you did that.”

“I love how you just assume I’m going to propose.”

“Hey.” Harry pouts.

Louis’ lips bend into a soft smile. “Joking, besides, I already know what you want.”

“That’s true, you do.”

“But now it won’t be a surprise,” Louis says, a little disappointed. “I do like the surprise aspect of proposals.”

Harry leans back a little, grinning. “Are you saying you’d actually marry me?”

“I… of course I would. Sorry, is that too forward? I can take it back. I’m never going to marry you, ever, I have no intention of––mmph–“

Harry’s mouth is on his, cutting him off. His lips wrap around Louis’ in slow, heated movements, quickly escalating into something rushed and frantic and wild because Harry absolutely-fucking-cannot get enough of him.

Louis smiles into the kiss and pulls back slightly, breathless. “What was that for?”

“I love you,” Harry whispers, smiling into the embrace. “I’d propose to you right now if it wouldn’t be totally crazy.”

Louis’ hands go still instantly, and Harry feels small surge of panic begin to coil when he realizes what he’s said, but then Louis is meeting his gaze again. “I’d… say yes right now, if it wouldn’t be totally crazy.”

Harry’s heart is about to leap out of his throat. “Okay… okay, cool.”

“Cool?” Louis laughs, slightly more nervous than before. “You’re so weird.”

“Well, I’m not marrying you _now_ ,” Harry chides.

“ _No,_ ” Louis whines, crowding Harry’s space again. “You can’t take it back.”

“Would you really say yes?” Harry asks carefully, twisting their hands together so he can hold Louis’ fingers far more securely and show that, though this is a completely joking instance, he might be a tiny bit serious.

Louis is quiet for the length of a heartbeat. “Well… I mean, you haven’t exactly asked me, so.”

Harry’s breathing seems to drown out the sounds from inside, because suddenly it’s just them. “Do you want me to?”

“Do you want to?” Louis asks back, unhelpfully.

There’s a part of him that yearns to say yes, to just take the plunge and go for it. But at the same time, he doesn’t want it to seem like an impulse decision, influenced by the wedding and everything. He wants it to be everything Louis deserves, and if that means waiting a little longer, then so be it.

“Not right now,” Harry says in one gentle breath. “Because it’s your mothers wedding and then her anniversary would be the same as our engagement and that’d just be weird.”

Louis’ face breaks out into a grin, exhaling. “Fair point.”

Harry cups the side of his face again, keeping him close. “When I do though, it’ll be a surprise, and it’ll be lovely.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to it.”

“Hey,” Harry says, before Louis can shift away altogether. He looks straight into Louis’ eyes as he speaks. “I’m in this for the long run, Lou.”

“So am I,” Louis says softly, nodding. “Completely.”

He feels Louis’ fingers run over his shirt like the first time they kissed, and there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Louis means it. He’s thinking about touching Louis’ skin in the back of the car while it rained outside, the fogged up windows and wanting to turn those feelings off, but never wanting to let him go. Louis’ tired eyes the first time they woke up together, nerves and fear and safety, so confused because it was the best Harry had ever felt. Making promises in the dark of Louis’ room when he was sixteen. Tracing fingertips over his skin and learning the curves of his body with only his lips. Breathing Louis in as if he was the only thing filling his lungs. Forcing himself to look away whenever he thought he was supposed to and falling in love with Louis in every way possible over and over and over.

It’s not scary anymore, not at all, because he knows, when this is all a memory; ten years from now or when they wake up tomorrow, his heart will still feel the same.

Louis’ hand curls around his neck, the other pressing over his beating heart, soft, eyes patient. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Harry says with a smile that slowly takes over his entire face. “Just happy.”

And the way Louis smiles back at him, Harry knows he doesn’t have to say it.

Louis loves him just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thank you to [Tori](https://andthecollisionofyourkiss.tumblr.com) for being my fantastic beta! this is the longest thing i've written (a lot longer than it was initially going to be) so thank you all so much for giving it a read, and for leaving such lovely comments. i've had so much fun writing it ~ with bits of chaos and stress mixed in there. i do hope it was enjoyable to read as well :)  
> come say hi on [tumblr!](https://thecoloursneverfade.tumblr.com) <3  
> peace.


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